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CHUN DUN -RANEE. — p. 276 


✓ 





EASTERN 


Fairy Legends 


CURRENT IN SOUTHERN INDIA. 


COLLECTED FROM ORAL TRADITION, 

By M. FRERE. 

ri 


WITH AN INTRODUCTION AND NOTES, 

By SIR BARTLE FRERE. 

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PHILADELPHIA 
J. B. LIPPINCOTT & CO. 
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CONTENTS 


PAGB 


INTRODUCTION 5 

THE COLLECTOR’S APOLOGY 12 

THE NARRATOR’S NARRATIVE „ . 1 5 

1. PUNCHKIN 27 

2 . A FUNNY STORY 44 

3. BRAVE SEVENTEE-BAI 5 1 

4. TRUTH’S TRIUMPH 81 

5. RAMA AND LUXMAN ; OR, THE LEARNED OWL 98 

6. LITTLE SURYA BAI II3 

7. THE WANDERINGS OF VICRAM MAHARAJAH 1 29 

8. LESS INEQUALITY THAN MEN DEEM l6l 

9. PANCH-PHUL RANEE 164 

IO. HOW THE SUN, THE MOON AND THE WIND WENT OUT 

TO DINNER I94 


11. SINGH-RAJAH AND THE CUNNING LITTLE JACKALS. .. . 196 

12 . THE JACKAL, THE BARBER AND THE BRAHMIN WHO HAD 


SEVEN DAUGHTERS I99 

13. TIT FOR TAT 2 I-S 

14. THE BRAHMIN, THE TIGER AND THE SIX JUDGES 220 


15. THE SELFISH SPARROW AND THE HOUSELESS CROWS . . 225 


4 


Contents 


PAGB 

16. THE VALIANT CHATTEE-MAKER 227 

17. THE RAKSHAS’ PALACE 236 

18. THE BLIND MAN, THE DEAF MAN AND THE DONKEY. . 248 

19. MUCHIE LAL 258 

20 . CHUNDUN RAJAH 268 

21 . SODEWA BAI 280 

22 . CHANDRA’S VENGEANCE 29I 

23. HOW THE THREE CLEVER MEN OUTWITTED THE DEMONS 314 

24. THE ALLIGATOR AND THE JACKAL 326 

NOTES 333 


INTRODUCTION. 


A FEW words seem necessary regarding the origin of 
these stories, in addition to what the Narrator says for 
herself in her Narrative, and what is stated in the Collector’s 
« Apology.” 

With the exception of two or three, which will be recog- 
nized as substantially identical with stories of Pilpay or other 
well-known Hindoo fabulists, I never before heard any of 
these tales among the Mahrattas, in that part of the Deccan 
where the Narrator and her family have lived for the last two 
generations ; and it is probable that most of the stories were 
brought from among the Lingaets of Southern India, the tribe, 
or rather sect, to which Anna de Souza tells us her family 
belonged before their conversion to Christianity. 

The Lingaets form one of the most strongly marked divi- 
sions of the Hindoo races south of the river Kistna. They 
are generally a well-favored, well-to-do people, noticeable for 
their superior frugality, intelligence and industry, and for the 
way in which they combine and act together as a separate 
body apart from other Hindoos. They have many pecu- 
liarities of costume, of social ceremony and of religion, which 
strike even a casual observer ; and though clearly not abo- 
riginal, they seern to have much ground for their claim to 
belong to a more ancient race and an earlier wave of immi- 
gration than most of the Hindoo nations with which they are 
now intermingled. 

The country they inhabit is tolerably familiar to most 
English readers on Indian subjects, for it is the theatre of 
many of the events described in the great Duke’s earlier des- 
patches, and in the writings of Munro, of Wilkes, and of Bu- 
chanan. The extraordinary beauty of some of the natural 

1 * 5 


6 


Introduction . 


features of the coast scenery, and the abundance of the archi- 
tectural and other remains of powerful and highly civilized 
Hindoo dynasties, have attracted the attention of tourists and 
antiquaries, though not to the extent their intrinsic merit 
deserves. Some knowledge of the land tenures and agricul- 
ture of the country is accessible to readers of Indian blue- 
books. 

But of all that relates to the ancient history and politics 
of the former Hindoo sovereigns of these regions very little is 
known to the general reader, though from their power, and 
riches and long-sustained civilization, as proved by the monu- 
ments these rulers have left behind them there are few parts 
of India better worth the attention of the historian and 
antiquary. 

Of the inner life of the people, past or present, of their 
social peculiarities and popular beliefs, even less is known 
or procurable in any published form. With the exception of 
a few graphic and characteristic notices of shrewd observers 
like Munro, little regarding them is to be found in the 
writings of any author likely to come in the way of ordinary 
readers. 

But this is not from want of materials : a good deal has 
been published in India, though, with the common fate of 
Indian publications, the books containing the information are 
often rare in English collections, and difficult to meet with in 
England, except in a few public libraries. Of unpublished 
material there must be a vast amount, collected not only by 
the government servants, but by missionaries, and others 
residing in the country, who have peculiar opportunities for 
observation, and for collecting information not readily to be 
obtained by a stranger or an official. Collections of this kind 
are specially desirable as regards the popular non-Brahminical 
superstitions of the lower orders. 

Few, even of those who have lived many years in India 
and made some inquiry regarding the external religion of its 
inhabitants, are aware how little the popular belief of the 
lower classes has in common with the Hindooism of the 
Brahmins, and how much it differs in different provinces, and 
in different races and classes in the same province. 

In the immediate vicinity of Poona, where Brahminisni 


Introduction . 


7 


seems so orthodox and powerful, a very little observation will 
satisfy the inquirer that the favorite objects of popular wor- 
ship do not always belong to the regular Hindoo Pantheon. 
No orthodox Hindoo deity is so popular in the Poona Dec- 
can as the deified sage Vithoba and his earlier expounders, 
both sage and followers being purely local divinities. Wher- 
ever a few of the pastoral tribes are settled, there Byroba, the 
god of the herdsmen, or Kundoba, the deified hero of the 
shepherds, supersedes all other popular idols. Byroba the 
Terrible, and other remnants of Fetish or of Snake- worship, 
everywhere divide the homage of the lower castes with the 
recognized Hindoo divinities, while outside almost every vil- 
lage the circle of large stones sacred to Vetal, the demon-god 
of the outcast helot races, which reminds the traveler of the 
Druid circles of the northern nations, has for ages held, and 
still holds, its ground against all Brahminical innovations. 

Some of these local or tribal divinities, when their wor- 
shipers are very numerous or powerful, have been adopted 
into the Hindoo Olympus as incarnations or manifestations 
of this or that orthodox divinity, and one or two have been 
provided with elaborate written legends connecting them with 
some known Puranic character or event ; but, in general, the 
true history of the local deity, if it survives at all, is to be 
found only in popular tradition ; and it thus becomes a matter 
of some ethnological and historical importance to secure all 
such fleeting remnants of ancient superstition before they are 
forgotten as civilization advances. 

Some information of this kind is to be gleaned even from 
the present series of legends, though the object of the col- 
lector being simply amusement, and not antiquarian research, 
any light which is thrown on the popular superstitions of the 
country is only incidental. 

Of the superhuman personages who appear in them, the 
“Rakshas” is the most prominent. This being has many 
features in common with the demoniacal Ogre of other lands. 
The giant bulk and terrible teeth of his usual form are the 
universal attributes of his congener. His habit of feasting on 
dead bodies will remind the reader of the Arabian Ghoul, 
while the simplicity and stupidity which qualify the super- 
natural powers of the Rakshas, and usually enable the quick- 


8 


Introduction . 


witted mortal to gain the victory over him, will recall many 
humorous passages in which giants figure in our own Norse 
and Teutonic legends. 

The English reader must bear in mind that in India beings 
of this or of very similar nature are not mere traditions of the 
past, but that they form an important part of the existing 
practical belief of the lower orders. Grown men will some- 
times refuse every inducement to pass at night near the sup- 
posed haunt of a Rakshas, and I have heard the cries of a 
belated traveler calling for help attributed to a Rakshas luring 
his prey. 

Nor is darkness always an element in this superstition: 
I have known a bold and experienced tracker of game 
gravely assert that some figures which he had been for some 
time keenly scanning on the bare summit of a distant hill 
were beings of this order, and he was very indignant at the 
laugh which his observation provoked from his less-experi- 
enced European disciple. “If your telescope could see as 
far as my old eyes,” the veteran said, “ or if you knew the 
movements of all the animals of this hunting-ground as well 
as I do, you would see that those must be demons and 
nothing else. No men nor animals at this time of day would 
collect on an open space and move about in that way. Be- 
sides, that large rock close by them is a noted place for 
demons ; every child in the village knows that.” 

I have heard another man of the same class, when asked 
why he looked so intently at a human footstep in the forest 
pathway, gravely observe that the footmark looked as if the 
foot which made it had been walking heel-foremost, and must 
therefore have been made by a Rakshas, “ for they always 
walked so when in human form.” 

Another expressed particular dread of a human face, the 
eyes of which were placed at an exaggerated angle to each 
other, like those of a Chinese or Malay, “ because that posi- 
tion of the eyes was the only way in which you could recog- 
nize a Rakshas in human shape.” 

In the more advanced and populous parts of the country 
the Rakshas seems giving way to the “ Bhoot,” which more 
nearly resembles the mere ghost of modern European super- 
stition ; but even in this diluted form such beings have an 


Introduction. 


9 

influence over Indian imaginations to which it is difficult in 
these days to find any parallel in Europe. 

I found, quite lately, a traditionary order in existence at 
Government House, Dapoorie, near Poona, which directed 
the native sentry on guard “ to present arms if a cat or dog, 
jackal or goat, entered or left the house or crossed near his 
beat” during certain hours of the night, “because it was the 
ghost” of a former governor, who was still remembered as 
one of the best and kindest of men. 

How or when the custom originated I could not learn, 
but the order had been verbally handed on from one native 
sergeant of the guard to another for many years, without 
any doubts as to its propriety or authority, till it was acci- 
dentally overheard by an European officer of the governor’s 
staff. 

In the hills and deserts of Sind the belief in beings of this 
order, as might be expected in a wild and desolate country, 
is found strong and universal ; there, however, the Rakshas 
has changed his name to that of our old friend the “ Gin ” of 
the Arabian Nights, and he has somewhat approximated in 
character to the Pwcca or Puck of our own country. The 
Gin of the Beelooch hills is wayward and often morose, but 
not necessarily malignant. His usual form is that of a 
dwarfish human being, with large eyes and covered with long 
hair, and apt to breathe with a heavy snoring kind of noise. 
From the circumstantial accounts I have heard of such “Gins” 
being seen seated on rocks at the side of lonely passes, I 
suspect that the great horned eagle-owl, which is not uncom- 
mon in the hill-country of Sind, has to answer for many well- 
vouched cases of Gin apparition. 

The Gin does not, however, always retain his own shape ; 
he frequently changes to the form of a camel, goat or other 
animal. If a Gin be accidentally met, it is recommended 
that the traveler should show no sign of fear, and, above all, 
keep a civil tongue in his head, for the demon has a special 
aversion to bad language. Every Beelooch has heard of in- 
stances in which such chance acquaintanceships with Gins 
have not only led to no mischief, but been the source of much 
benefit to the fortunate mortal who had the courage and pru- 
dence to turn them to account ; for a Gin once attached to a 

A* 


IO 


Introduction . 


man will work hard and faithfully for him, and sometimes 
show him the entrance to those great subterranean caverns 
under the hills, where there is perpetual spring, and trees 
laden with fruits of gold and precious stones ; but the mortal 
once admitted to such a paradise is never allowed to leave it. 
There are few neighborhoods in the Beelooch hills which 
cannot show huge stones, apparently intended for building, 
which have been, « as all the country-side knows,” moved by 
such agency, and the entrance to the magic cavern is never 
very far off, though the boldest Beelooch is seldom very will- 
ing to show or to seek for the exact spot. 

Superstitions nearly identical were still current within the 
last forty years, when I was a boy, on the borders of Wales. 
In Cwm Pwcca (the Fairies’ Glen), in the valley of the 
Clydach, between Abergavenny and Merthyr, the cave used 
to be shown into which a belated miner was decoyed by the 
Pwccas, and kept dancing for ten years; and a farm-house 
on the banks of the Usk, not far off, was, in the last genera- 
tion, the abode of a farmer who had a friendly Pwcca in his 
service. The goblin was called Pwcca Trwyn, as I was 
assured from his occasionally being visible as a huge human 
nose. He would help the mortal by carrying loads and 
mending hedges, but usually worked only while the farmer 
slept at noon, and always expected as his guerdon a portion 
of the toast and ale which his friend had for dinner in the 
field. If none was left for him, he would cease to work ; and 
he once roused the farmer from his noontide slumbers by 
thrashing him soundly with his own hedging-stake. 

The Peris or Fairies of these stories have nothing dis- 
tinctive about them. Like the fairies of other lands, they 
often fall in love with mortal men, and are visible to the pure 
eyes of childhood when hidden from the grosser vision of 
maturer years. 

Next to the Rakshas, the Cobra, or deadly hooded snake, 
plays the most important part in these legends as a super- 
natural personage. This is one only of the many traces 
still extant of that serpent-worship formerly so general in 
Western India. I have no doubt that Mr. Ferguson, in his 
forthcoming work on Bhuddhist antiquities, will throw much 
light on this curious subject. I will, therefore, only now 


Introduction . 


ii 


observe that this serpent-worship as it still exists is some- 
thing more active than a mere popular superstition. The 
Cobra, unless disturbed, rarely goes far from home, and is 
supposed to watch jealously over a hidden treasure. He is 
always, in the estimation of the lower classes, invested with 
supernatural powers, and according to the treatment he re- 
ceives he builds up or destroys the fortunes of the house to 
which he belongs. No native will willingly kill him if he can 
get rid of him in any other way; and the pooref classes 
always, after he is killed, give him all the honors of a regular 
cremation, assuring him, with many protestations, as the pile 
burns, “ that they are guiltless of his blood ; that they slew 
him by order of their master,” or “that they had no other 
way to prevent his biting the children or the chickens.” 

A very interesting discussion on the subject of the Snake 
Race of Ancient India, between Mr. Bayley and Baboo Rajen- 
dralal Mitr, will be found in the Proceedings of the Asiatic 
Society of Bengal^ for February, 1867. 


THE COLLECTOR’S APOLOGY. 


HE collection of these legends was commenced with the 



X object of amusing a favorite young friend of mine. It 
was continued, as they appeared in themselves curious illus- 
trations of Indian popular tradition, and in the hope that some- 
thing might thus be done to rescue them from the danger of 
oral transmission. 

Though varied in their imagery, the changes between the 
different legends are rung upon very few themes, as if pur- 
posely confined to what was most familiar to the people. 
The similarity between the incidents in some of these and in 
favorite European stories, particularly modern German ones, 
is curious ; and the leading characteristics peculiar to all 
orthodox fairy tales are here preserved intact. Step-mothers 
are always cruel, and step-sisters, their willing instruments ; 
giants and ogres always stupid ; youngest daughters more 
clever than their elder sisters ; and the Jackal (like his Eu- 
ropean cousin the Fox) usually overcomes every difficulty, 
and proves a bright moral example of the success of wit 
against brute force — the triumph of mind over matter. 

It is remarkable that in the romances of a country where 
women are generally supposed by us to be regarded as mere 
slaves or intriguers, their influence (albeit most frequently 
put to proof behind the scenes) should be made to appear so 
great, and, as a rule, exerted wholly for good ; and that, in a 
land where despotism has such a firm hold on the hearts of 
the people, the liberties of the subject should be so boldly 
asserted as by the old Milkwoman to the Rajah in « Little 
Surya Bai,” or the old Malee* to the Rajah in “ Truth’s Tri- 


* Gardener. 


12 


The Collector' s Apology . 13 

umph and few, probably would have expected to find the 
Hindoos owning such a romance as “ Brave Seventee Bai 
or to meet with such stories as “ The Valiant Chattee Maker,” 
and “The Blind Man, the Deaf Man and the Donkey,” 
among a nation which, it has been constantly asserted, pos- 
sesses no humor, no sense of the ridiculous, and cannot 
understand a joke. 

In “The Narrator’s Narrative” Anna Liberata de Souza’s 
own story is related, as much as possible, in her own words 
of expressive but broken English. She did not, however, 
tell it in one continuous narrative : it is the sum of many 
conversations I had with her during the eighteen months that 
she was with us. 

The legends themselves are altered as little as possible : 
half their charm, however, consisted in the Narrator’s eager, 
flexible voice and graphic gestures. 

I often asked her if there were no stories of elephants 
having done wonderful deeds (as from their strength and 
sagacity one would have imagined them to possess all the 
qualifications requisite to heroes of romance) ; but, strange 
to say, she knew of none in which elephants played any part 
whatsoever. 

As regards the Oriental names, they have generally been 
written as Anna pronounced them. It was frequently not 
possible to give the true orthography, and the correctly spelt 
name does not always give a clue to the popular pronuncia- 
tion. So with the interpretations and geography. Where it 
is possible to identify what is described, an attempt has been 
made to do so ; but for other explanations Anna’s is the sole 
authority : she was quite sure that “ Seventee Bai ” meant 
the “ Daisy Lady,” though no botanist would acknowledge the 
plant under that name ; and she was satisfied that all gentle- 
men who have traveled know where “ Agra Brum ” is, though 
she had never been there, and no such province appears 
in any ordinary Gazeteer or description of the city ot 
Akbar. 

These few legends, told by one old woman to her grand- 
children, can only be considered as representatives of a class. 

* Was this narrative of feminine sagacity invented by some old woman, who felt 
aggrieved at the general contempt entertained for her sex? 

2 


H 


The Collector's Apology . 


“ That world,” to use her own words, « is gone and those 
who can tell us about it in this critical and unimaginative age 
are fast disappearing too before the onward march of civiliza- 
tion ; yet there must be in the country many a rich gold mine 
unexplored. Will no one go to the diggings ? 


M. F. 







THE NARRATOR’S NARRATIVE. 


M Y grandfather’s family were of the Lingaet caste, and 
lived in Calicut ; but they went and settled near Goa at 
the time the English were there. It was there my grand- 
father became a Christian. He and his wife, and all the family, 
became Christians at once, and when his father heard it he was 
very angry, and turned them all out of the house. There were 
very few Christians in those days. Now you see Christians 
everywhere, but then we were very proud to see one anywhere. 
My grandfather was Havildar* in the English army, and when 
the English fought against Tippo Sahib, my grandmother fol- 
lowed him all through the war. She was a very tall, fine, 
handsome woman, and very strong ; wherever the regiment 
marched she went, on, on, on, on (great deal hard work that 
old woman done). Plenty stories my granny used to tell about 
Tippo and how Tippo was killed, and about Wellesley Sahib, 
and Monro Sahib, and Malcolm Sahib, and Elphinstone Sahib.f 
Plenty things had that old woman heard and seen. Ah, he 
was a good man, Elphinstone Sahib! My granny used often 
to tell us how he would go down and say to the soldiers, 
“Baba,J Baba, fight well. Win the battles, and each man 
shall have his cap full of money; and after the war is over I’ll 
send every one of you to his own home.” (And he did do 
it.) Then we children plenty proud, when we heard what 
Elphinstone Sahib had said. In those days the soldiers were 
not low-caste people like they are now. Many, very high-caste 

* Sergeant of native troops. 

t The Duke of Wellington, Sir Thomas Monro, Sir John Malcolm and Mr. 
Mountstuart Elphinstone. 

$ My children. 


15 


1 6 The Narrator's Narrative . 

men, and come from very far, from Goa, and Calicut, and 
Malabar to join the English. 

My father was a tent lascar,* and when the war was over 
my grandfather had won five medals for all the good he had 
done, and my father had three ; and my father was given charge 
of the Kirkee stores.f My grandmother and mother, and all 
the family, were in those woods behind Poona at time of the 
battle at Kirkee.J I’ve often heard my father say how full the 
river was after the battle — baggage and bundles floating down, 
and men trying to swim across — and horses and all such a 
bustle. Many people got good things on that day. My father 
got a large chattee,§ and two good ponies that were in the 
river, and he took them home to camp ; but when he got there 
the guard took them away. So all his trouble did him no 
good. 

We were poor people, but living was cheap, and we had 
plenty comfort. 

In those days house rent did not cost more than half a 
rupee|| a month, and you could build a very comfortable house 
for a hundred rupees. Not such good houses as people now 
live in, but well enough for people like us. Then a whole 
family could live as comfortably on six or seven rupees a month 
as they can now on thirty. Grain, now a rupee a pound, was 
then two annas a pound. Common sugar, then one anna a 
pound, is now worth four annas a pound. Oil which then sold 
for six pice a bottle, now costs four annas. Four annas’ worth 
of salt, chillies, tamarinds, onions and garlic, would then last a 
family a whole month ; now the same money would not buy a 
week’s supply. Such dungereeH" as you now pay half rupee a 
yard for, you could then buy from twenty to forty yards of, for 
the rupee. You could not get such good calico then as now, 

* Tent-pitcher. t The Field Arsenal at Kirkee (near Poona). 

$ The battle which decided the fate of the Deccan, and led to the downfall of 
Bajee Row Peishwa, and extinction of Mahratta rule. Fought 13th November, 
1817. See Note A. § A Jar. 

|| The following shows the Narrator’s calculation of currency : 

1 Pie=i-4 of a cent. 

3 Pie=i Pice. 

4 Pice=i Anna. 

16 Annas=i Rupee=about 30 cents. 

IT A coarse cotton cloth. 


The Narrator s Narrative. 


1 7 

but the duugeree did very well. Beef then was a pice a pound, 
and the vegetables cost a pie a day. For half a rupee you 
could fill the house with wood. Water also was much cheaper. 
You could then get a man to bring you two large skins full, 
morning and evening, for a pie ; now he would not do it under 
half a rupee or more. If the children came crying for fruit, a 
pie would get them as many guavas as they liked in the bazaar. 
Now you’d have to pay that for each guava. This shows how 
much more money people need now than they did then.* 

The English fixed the rupee to the value of sixteen annas, 
in those days there were some big annas, and some little ones, 
and you could sometimes get twenty-two annas for a rupee. 

I had seven brothers and one sister. Things were very 
different in those days to what they are now. There were no 
schools then to send the children to ; it was only the great peo- 
ple who could read and write. If a man was known to be able 
to write he was plenty proud, and hundreds and hundreds of 
people would come to him to write their letters. Now you find 
a pen and ink in every house ! I don’t know what good all ^ 
-^this reading and writing does. My grandfather couldn’t write, 
and my father couldn’t write, and they did very well ; but all’s 
changed now. 

My father used to be out all day at his work, and my 
mother often went to do coolie-work, f and she had to take my 
father his dinner (my mother did plenty work in the world); 
and when my granny was strong enough she used sometimes 
to go into the bazaar, if we wanted money, and grind rice for 
the shop-keepers, and they gave her half a rupee for her day’s 
work, and used to let her have the bran and chaff besides. 
But afterward she got too old to do that, and besides there 
were so many of us children. So she used to stay at home 
and look after us while my mother was at work. Plenty^, 
^bother ’tis to look after a lot of children. No sooner my 
^granny’s back turned than we all run out in the sun, and play 
with the dust and stones on the road. 

Then my granny would call out to us, « Come here, chil- 
dren, out of the sun, and I’ll tell you a story. Come in; 

* See Note B. 

f Such work as is done by the Coolie caste, chiefly fetching and carrying heavy 
loads. 

2 * 


1 8 The Narrator's Narrative. 

you’ll all get headaches.” So she used to get us together 
("there were nine of us, and great little fidgets, like all chil- 
dren), into the house ; and there she’d sit on the floor, and 
tell us one of the stories I tell you. But then she used to 
make them last much longer, the different people telling their 
own stories from the beginning as often as possible ; so that 
by the time she’d got to the end, she had told the beginning 
over five or six times. And so she went on, talk, talk, talk, 
Mera Bap reh !* Such a long time she’d go on for, till all 
the children got quite tired and fell asleep. Now there are 
plenty schools to which to send the children, but there were 
no schools when I was a young girl ; and the old women, 
who could do nothing else, used to tell them stories to keep 
them out of mischief. 

We used sometimes to ask my grandmother, “Are those 
stories you tell us really true ? Were there ever such people 
in the world ?” She generally answered, “ I don’t know, but 
maybe there are somewhere.” I don’t believe there are any 
of those people living ; I dare say, however, they did once 
live ; but my granny believed more in those things than we 
do now. She was a Christian, she worshiped God and be- 
lieved in our Saviour, but still she would always respect the 
Hindoo te mpl es. If she saw a red stone, or an image of 
Gunputtif or any of the other Hindoo gods, she would kneel 
down and say her prayers there, for she used to say, “ Maybe 
< there’s something in it.” 

About all things she would tell us pretty stories — about 
men, and animals, and trees, and flowers, and stars. There 
was nothing she did not know some tale about. On the 
bright cold-weather nights, when you can see more stars than 
at any other time of the year, we used to like to watch the 
sky, and she would show us the Hen and Chickens , % and the 
Key,§ and the Scorpion, and the Snake, and the Three Thieves 
climbing up to rob the Ranee’s silver bedstead, with their 
mother (that twinkling star far away) watching for her sons’ 
return. Pit-a-pat, pit-a-pat, you can see how her heart beats, 
for she is always frightened, thinking, “ Perhaps they will be 
caught and hanged !” 

* Oh, my Father 1 t The Hindoo God of Wisdom. 

* The Pleiades. § The Great Bear. 


The Narrator's Narrative . 


*9 


Then she would show us the Cross,* that reminds us of 
our Saviour’s, and the great pathway of lightf on which He 
went up to heaven. It is what you call the Milky Way. 
My granny usen’t to call it that : she used to say that when 
our Lord returned up to heaven that was the way He went, 
and that ever since it has shone in memory of His ascension, 
so beautiful and bright. 

She always said a star with a smoky tail (comet) meant 
war, and she never saw a falling star without saying, « There’s 
a great man died but the fixed stars she used to think 
were all really good people, burning like bright lamps before 
God. 

As to the moon, my granny used to say she’s most useful 
to debtors who can’t pay their debts. Thus : A man who 
borrows money he knows he cannot pay, takes the full moon 
for witness and surety. Then, if any man so silly as to lend 
him money and go and ask him for it, he can say, “ The 
moon’s my surety ; go catch hold of the moon !” Now, you 
see, no man can do that ; and what’s more, when the moon’s 
once full, it grows every night less and less, and at last goes 
out altogether. 

All the Cobras in my grandmother’s stories were seven- 
headed. This puzzled us children, and we would say to her, 
“Granny, are there any seven-headed Cobras now? For all 
the Cobras we see that the conjurors bring round have only 
one head each.” To which she used to answer, « No, of 
course there are no seven-headed Cobras now. That world 
is gone, but you see each Cobra has a hood *3f skin ; that is 
the remains of another head.” Then we would say, “ Although 
none of those old seven-headed Cobras are alive now, maybe 
there are some of their children living somewhere.” But at 
this my granny used to get vexed, and say, “ Nonsense ! you 
are silly little chatter-boxes ; get along with you !” And, 
though we often looked for the seven-headed Cobras, we 
never could find any of them. 

My old granny lived till she was nearly a hundred ; when 
she got very old she rather lost her memory, and often made 
mistakes in the stories she told us, telling a bit of one story 

* The Southern Cross. 

t The Milky Way. This is an ancient Christian legend. 


20 


The Narrator'' s Narrative. 


and then joining on to it a bit of some other ; for we children 
bothered her too much about them, and sometimes she used 
to get very tired of talking, and when we asked her for a 
story, would answer, “You must ask your mother about it; 
she can tell you.” 

Ah ! those were happy days, and we had plenty ways to 
amuse ourselves. I was very fond of pets ; I had a little 
dog that followed me everywhere, and played all sorts of 
pretty tricks, and I and my youngest brother used to take 
the little sparrows out of their nests on the roof of our 
house and tame them. These little birds got so fond of me 
they would always fly after me ; as I was sweeping the floor 
one would perch on my head, and two or three on my shoul- 
ders, and the rest come fluttering after. But my poor father 
and mother used to shake their heads at me when they saw 
this, and say, “ Ah, naughty girl, to take the little birds out 
of their nests : that stealing will bring you no good.” All my 
family were very fond of music. You know that Rosie (my 
daughter) sings very nicely and plays upon the guitar, and 
my son-in-law plays on the pianoforte and the fiddle (we’ve 
got two fiddles in our house now), but Mera Bap reh ! how 
well my grandfather sang ! Sometimes of an evening he 
would drink a little toddy,* and be quite cheerful, and sing 
away ; and all we children liked to hear him. I was very 
fond of singing. I had a good voice when I was young, and 
my father used to be so fond of making me sing* and I often 
sang to him that Calicut song about the ships sailing on the 
seaf and the little wife watching for her husband to come 
back, and plenty more that I forget now ; and my father and 
brothers would be so pleased at my singing, and laugh and 
say, “That girl can do anything.” But now my voice is 
gone, and I didn’t care to sing any more since my son died, 
and my heart been so sad. 

In those days there were much fewer houses in Poona than 
there are now, and many more wandering gipsies, and such 
like. They were very troublesome, doing nothing but begging 
and stealing, but people gave them all they wanted, as it was 
believed that to incur their ill-will was very dangerous. It 

* An intoxicating drink made from the juice of the palm tree. 

t See N^ie C. 


The Narrator's Narrative . 21 

was not safe even to speak harshly of them. I remember 
one day, when I was quite a little girl, running along by my 
mother’s side, when she was on her way to the bazaar : we 
happened to pass the huts of some of these people, and I 
said to her “ See, mother, what nasty, dirty people those are ; 
they live in such ugly little houses, and they look as if they 
never combed their hair nor washed.” When I said this, my 
mother turned round quite sharply and boxed my ears, say- 
ing, “ Because God has given you a comfortable home and 
good parents, is that any reason for you to laugh at others 
who are poorer and less happy ?” « I meant no harm,” I 
said ; and when we got home I told my father what my mo- 
ther had done, and he said to her, « Why did you slap the 
child ?” She answered, « If you want to know, ask your 
daughter why I punished her. You will then be able to judge 
whether I was right or not.” So I told my father what I had 
said about the gipsies, and when I told him, instead of pity- 
ing me, he also boxed my ears very hard. So that was all I 
got for telling tales against my mother ! 

But they both did it, fearing if I spoke evil of the gipsies 
and were not instantly punished, some dreadful evil would 
befall me. 

It was after my granny that I was named “Anna Liberata.” 
She died after my father, and when I was eleven years old. 
Her eyes were quite bright, her hair black, and her teeth good 
to the last. If I’d been older then, I should have been able 
to remember more of her stories. Such a number as she 
used to tell ! I’m afraid my sister would not be able to 
remember any of them. She has had much trouble ; that 
puts those sort of things out of people’s heads ; besides, she 
is a goose. She is younger than I am, although you would 
think her so much older, for her hair turned gray when she 
was very young, while mine is quite black still. She is 
almost bald too, now, as she pulled out her hair because it 
was gray. I always said to her, “ Don’t do so ; for you can’t 
make yourself any younger, and it is better, when you are 
getting old, to look old. Then people will do whatever you 
ask them ! But however old you may be, if you look young, 
they’ll say to you, < You are young enough and strong enough 
to do your own work yourself.’ ” 


22 


The Narrator's Narrative. 


My mother used to tell us stories too ; but not so many 
as my granny. A few years ago there might be found several 
old people who knew those sorts of stories ; but ndw children 
go to school, and nobody thinks of remembering or telling 
them — they’ll soon be all forgotten. It is true there are 
books with some stories something like these, but they always 
put them down wrong. Sometimes when I cannot remember 
a bit of a story, I ask some one about it ; then they say, 
“ There is a story of that name in my book. I don’t know 
it, but I’ll read.” Then they read it to me, but it is all wrong, 
so that I get quite cross, and make them shut up the book. 
For in the books they cut the stories quite short, and leave 
out the prettiest part, and they jumble up the beginning of 
one story with the end of another — so that it is altogether 
wrong. 


When I was young, old people used' to be very fond of tell- 
ing these stories ; but instead of that, it seems to me that now 
the old people are fond of nothing but making money. 

Then I was married. I was twelve years old then. Our 
S native people have a very happy life till we marry. The girls 
^ live with their father and mother and brothers and sisters, and 
have got nothing to do but amuse themselves, and got father 
and mother to take care of them ; but after they’re married they 
go to live at their husband’s house, and the husband’s mother 
and sisters are often very unkind to them. 

You English people can’t understand that sort of thing. 
When an Englishman marries, he goes to a new house, and his 
wife is the mistress of it ; but our native people are very dif- 
ferent. If the father is dead, the mother and unmarried sis- 
ters live in the son’s house, and rule it ; his wife is nothing in 
the house. And the mother and sisters say to the son’s wife, 
“ This is not your house — you’ve not always lived in it ; you 
cannot be mistress here.” And if the wife complains to her 
husband, and he speaks about it, they say, “Very well, if you 
are such an unnatural son, you’d better turn your mother and 
sisters out of doors ; but while we live here, we’ll rule the 
house.” So_there is always plenty fighting. It’s not un- 
kind of the mother and Sisters— it’s custom? 

My husband was a servant in Government House — that was 
when Lord Clare was governor here. When I was twenty 


The Narrator' s Narrative. 


23 

years old, my husband died of a bad fever, and left me with 
two children — the boy and the girl, Rosie. 

I had no money to keep them with, so I said, « I’ll go to 
service,” and my mother-in-law said, “ How can you go with 
two children, and so young, and knowing nothing ?” But I said, 
“ I can learn, and I’ll go and a kind lady took me into her 
service. When I went to my first place, I hardly knew a word 
of English (though I knew our Calicut language, and Portu- 
guese, and Hindostani, and Mahratti well enough), and I could 
not hold a needle. I was so stupid, like a Coolie-woman ;* 
but my mistress was very kind to me, and I soon learnt ; she 
did not mind the trouble of teaching me. I often think, 
“ Where find such good Christian people in these days ?” To 
take a poor, stupid woman and her two children into the 
house — for I had them both with me, Rosie and the boy. I 
was a sharp girl in those days ; I did my mistress’ work and I 
looked after the children too. I never left them to any one 
else. If she wanted me for a long time, I used to bring the 
children into the room and set them down on the floor, so as 
to have them under my own eye whilst I did her work. My 
mistress was very fond of Rosie, and used to teach her to 
work and read. After some time my mistress went home, 
and since then I have been in eight places. 

My brother-in-law was valet at that time to Napier Sahib, 
up in Sind. All the people and servants were very fond of 
that Sahib. My brother-in-law was with him for ten years ; 
and he wanted me to go up there to get place as ayah, and 
said, “ You quick, sharp girl, and know English very well ; 
you easily get good place and make plenty money.” But I 
such a foolish woman I would not go. I write and tell him, 
“No, I can’t come, for Sind such along way off, and I cannot 
leave the children.” I plenty proud then. I give up all for 
the children. But now what good ? I know your language. 
What use ? To blow the fire ? I only a miserable woman, 
fit to go to cook-room and cook the dinner. So go down in 
the world, a poor woman (not much good to have plenty in 
head and empty pocket !) but if I’d been a man I might now 
be a Fouzdar.f 


* A low caste — hewers of wood and drawers of water. 


t Chief Constable. 


24 


The Narrator's Narrative. 


I was at Kolapore* at the time of the mutiny, and we had 
to run away in the middle of the night ; but I’ve told you be- 
fore all about that. Then seven years ago my mother died 
(she was ninety when she died), and we came back to live at 
Poona, and my daughter was married, and I was so happy and 
pleased. 

I gave a feast then to three hundred people, and we had 
music and dancing, and my son, he so proud he dancing from 
morning to night, and running here and there arranging every- 
thing ; and on that day I said, “ Throw the doors open, and 
any beggar, any poor person come here, give them what they 
like to eat, for whoever comes shall have enough, since there’s 
no more work for me in the world.” So, thinking I should 
be able to leave service, and give up work, I spent all the 
money I had left. That was not very much, for in sending my 
son to school I’d spent a great deal. He was such a beauty 
boy — tall, straight, handsome — and so clever. They used to 
say he looked more like my brother than my son, and he said 
to me, “ Mammy, you’ve worked for us all your life ; now I’m 
grown up, I’ll get a clerk’s place and work for you. You shall 
work no more, but live in my house.” But last year he was 
drowned in the river. That was my great sad. Since then 
I couldn’t lift up my head. I can’t remember things now as I 
used to do, and all is muddled in my head, six and seven. It 
makes me sad sometimes to hear you laughing and talking so 
happy with your father and mother and all your family, when I 
think of my father, and mother, and brothers, and husband, 
and son, all dead and gone ! No more happy home like that 
for me. What should I care to live for ? I would come to 
England with you, for I know you would be good to me and 
bury me when I die, but I cannot go so far from Rosie. My 
one eye put out, my other eye left. I could not lose it too. 
If it were not for Rosie and her children I should like to travel 
about and see the world. There are four places I have always 
wished to see — Calcutta, Madras, England and Jerusalem (my 
poor mother always wished to see Jerusalem, too — that her 
great hope); but I shall not see them now. Many ladies wanted 
to take me to England with them, and if I had gone I should 
have saved plenty money, but now it is too late to think of 

* Capital of the Kolapore State, in the Southern Mahratta country. 


The Narrator'* s Narrative . 


25 


that. Besides, it would not be much use. What’s the good 
of my saving money ? Can I take it away with me when I 
die ? My father and grandfather did not do so, and they had 
enough to live on till they died. I have enough for what I 
want, and I’ve plenty poor relations. They all come to me, 
asking for money, and I give it them. I thank our Saviour 
there are enough good Christians here to give me a slic-? of 
bread and cup of water when I can’t work for it. I do not 
fear to come to want. 

Government House, ) 

Parell, Bombay, 1866. J 

3 * B 





Old Deccan Days. 


I, 


PUNCHKIN. 


NCE upon a time there was a Rajah* who had 



seven beautiful daughters. They were all good 
girls; but the youngest, named Balna,f was more 
clever than the rest. The Rajah’s wife died when 
they were quite little children, so these seven poor 
Princesses were left with no mother to take care of 


them, 


The Rajah’s daughters took it by turns to cook their 
father’s dinner every day, J whilst he was absent de- 
liberating with his ministers on the affairs of the nation. 

About this time the Purdan § died, leaving a widow 
and one daughter ; and every day, every day, when 
the seven Princesses were preparing their father’s din- 
ner, the Purdan’s widow and daughter would come 
and beg for a little fire from the hearth. Then Balna 
used to say to her sisters, “ Send that woman away ; 

* King. f The Little One. f See Notes at the end. 

§ Or, more correctly, Prudhan , Prime Minister. 


27 



28 


Old Deccan Days . 


send her away. Let her get the fire at her own house. 
What does she want with ours ? If we allow her to 
come here, we shall suffer for it some day.” But the 
other sisters would answer, u Be quiet, Balna ; why 
must you always be quarreling with this poor woman ? 
Let her take some fire if she likes.” Then the Pur- 
dan’s widow used to go to the hearth and take a few 
sticks from it ; and, whilst no one was looking, she 
would quickly throw some mud into the midst of the 
dishes which were being prepared for the Rajah’s 
dinner. 

Now the Rajah was very fond of his daughters. 
Ever since their mother’s death they had cooked his 
dinner with their own hands, in order to avoid the 
danger of his being poisoned by his enemies. So, 
when he found the mud mixed up with his dinner, he 
thought it must arise from their carelessness, as it ap- 
peared improbable that any one should have put mud 
there on purpose ; but being very kind, he did not 
like to reprove them for it, although this spoiling of 
the currie was repeated many successive days. 

At last, one day, he determined to hide and watch 
his daughters cooking, and see how it all happened ; so 
he went into the next room, and watched them through 
a hole in the wall. 

There he saw his seven daughters carefully washing 
the rice and preparing the currie, and as each dish 
was completed, they put it by the fire ready to be 
cooked. Next he noticed the Purdan’s widow come 
to the door, and beg for a few sticks from the fire to 
cook her dinner with. Balna turned to her, angrily, 
and said, “ Why don’t you keep fuel in your own 
house, and not come here every day and take ours? 

O 


Punchkin. 


2 9 


Sisters, don’t give this woman any more ; let her buy 
it for herself.” 

Then the eldest sister answered, “ Balna, let the 
poor woman take the wood and the fire ; she does us 
no harm.” B at Balna replied, “ If you let her come 
here so often, maybe she will do us some harm, and 
make us sorry for it, some day.” 

The Rajah then saw the Purdan’s widow go to the 
place- where all his dinner was nicely prepared, and, as 
she took the wood, she threw a little mud into each of 
the dishes. 

At this he was very angry, and sent to have the 
woman seized and brought before him. But when the 
widow came, she told him that she had played this 
trick because she wanted to gain an audience with him ; 
and she spoke so cleverly, and pleased him so well 
with her cunning words, that instead of punishing her, 
the Rajah married her, and made her his Ranee, * and 
she and her daughter came to live in the palace. 

The new Ranee hated the seven poor Princesses, and 
wanted to get them, if possible, out of the way, in 
order that her daughter might have all their riches and 
live in the palace as Princess in their place ; and in- 
stead of being grateful to them for their kindness to her, 
she did all she could to make them miserable. She 
gave them nothing but bread to eat, and very little of 
that, and very little water to drink ; so these seven poor 
little Princesses, who had been accustomed to have 
everything comfortable about them, and good food and 
good clothes all their lives long, were very miserable 
and unhappy ; and they used to go out every day and 
sit by their dead mother’s tomb and cry ; and used to say, 
* Queen. 


3 ° 


Old Deccan Days . 


“ Oh mother, mother, cannot you see your poor chil- 
dren, how unhappy we are, and how we are starved 
by our cruel step-mother ?” 

One day, whilst they were sobbing and crying, lo and 
behold ! a beautiful pomelo tree * grew up out of the 
grave, covered with fresh ripe pomeloes, and the chil- 
dren satisfied their hunger by eating some of the fruit ; 
and every day after this, instead of trying to eat the 
nasty dinner their step-mother provided for then¥$ they 
used to go out to their mother’s grave and eat the po- 
meloes which grew there on the beautiful tree. 

Then the Ranee said to her daughter, “ I cannot tell 
how it is : every day those seven girls say they don’t want 
any dinner, and won’t eat any ; and yet they never grow 
thin nor look ill ; they look better than you do. I can- 
not tell how it is and she bade her watch the seven 
Princesses and see if any one gave them anything to 
eat. 

So next day, when the Princesses went to their 
mother’s grave, and were eating the beautiful pome- 
loes, the Purdan’s daughter followed them and saw 
them gathering the fruit. 

Then Balna said to her sisters, “Do you not see that 
girl watching us ? Let us drive her away or hide the 
pomeloes, else she will go and tell her mother all about 
it, and that will be very bad for us.” 

But the other sisters said, “ Oh no, do not be unkind, 
Balna. The girl would never be so cruel as to tell her 
mother. Let us rather invite her to come and have 
some of the fruit and calling her to them, they gave 
her one of the pomeloes. 

No sooner had she eaten it, however, than the Pur- 
* Citrus decumana — the Shaddock of the West Indies. 


Punchkin . 


3 1 

dan’s daughter went home and said to her mother, “ I 
do not wonder the seven Princesses will not eat the 
nasty dinner you prepare for them, for by their mother’s 
grave there grows a beautiful pomelo tree, and they go 
there every day and eat the pomeloes. I ate one, and 
it was the nicest I have ever tasted.” 

The cruel Ranee was much vexed at hearing this, 
and all next day she stayed in her room, and told the 
Rajah that she had a very bad headache. The Rajah 
at hearing this was deeply grieved, and said to his wife, 
“ What can I do for you?” She answered, u There is 
only one thing that will make my headache well. By 
your dead wife’s tomb there grows a fine pomelo tree ; 
you must bring that here, and boil it, root and branch, 
and put a little of the water in which it has been 
boiled on my forehead, and that will cure my head- 
ache.” So the Rajah sent his servants, and had the 
beautiful pomelo tree pulled up by the roots, and did 
as the Ranee desired ; and when some of the water 
in which it had been boiled was put on her forehead, 
she said her headache was gone and she felt quite 
well. 

Next day, when the seven Princesses went as usual 
to the grave of their mother, the pomelo tree had dis- 
appeared. Then they all began to cry very bitterly. 

Now there was by the Ranee’s tomb a small tank, * 
and as they were crying they saw that the tank was 
filled with a rich cream-like substance, which quickly 
hardened into a thick white cake. At seeing this all 
the Princesses were very glad, and they ate some of the 
cake, and liked it ; and next day the same thing hap- 
pened, and so it went on for many days. Every morn- 
* Reservoir for water. 


3 2 


Old Deccan Days. 


ing the Princesses went to their mother’s grave, and 
found the little tank filled with the nourishing cream- 
like cake. Then the cruel step-mother said to her 
daughter : “ I cannot tell how it is : I have had the po- 
melo tree which used to grow by the Ranee’s grave 
destroyed, and yet the Princesses grow no thinner nor 
look more sad, though they never eat the dinner I give 
them. I cannot tell how it is !” 

And her daughter said, u I will watch.” 

Next day, while the Princesses were eating the cream 
cake, who should come by but their step-mother’s 
daughter? Balna saw her first, and said, “See, sis- 
ters, there comes that girl again. Let us sit round the 
edge of the tank, and not allow her to see it ; for if we 
give her some of our cake, she will go and tell her 
mother, and that will be very unfortunate for us.” 

The other sisters, however, thought Balna unneces- 
sarily suspicious, and instead of following her advice, 
they gave the Purdan’s daughter some of the cake, and 
she went home and told her mother all about it. 

The Ranee, on hearing how well the Princesses 
fared, was exceedingly angry, and sent her servants to 
pull down the dead Ranee’s tomb and fill the little 
tank with the ruins. And not content with this, she 
next day pretended to be very, very ill — in fact, at 
the point of death ; and when the Rajah was much 
grieved, and asked her whether it was in his power to 
procure her any remedy, she said to him : “Only one 
thing can save my life, but I know you will not do it.” 
He replied, “ Yes, whatever it is, I will do it.” She 
then said, “To save my life, you must kill the seven 
daughters of your first wife, and put some of their 
Mood on’ my forehead and on the palms of my hands, 


Punchkin . 


33 


and their death will be my life.” At these words the 
Rajah was very sorrowful ; but because he feared to 
break his word, he went out with a heavy heart to find 
his daughters. 

He found them crying by the ruins of their mother’s 
grave. 

Then, feeling he could not kill them, the Rajah 
spoke kindly to them, and told them to come out into 
the jungle with him ; and there he made a fire and 
cooked some rice, and gave it to them. But in the 
afternoon, it being very hot, the seven Princesses all 
fell asleep, and when he saw they were fast asleep, the 
Rajah, their father, stole away and left them (for he 
feared his wife), saying to himself: “It is better my 
poor daughters should die here than be killed by their 
step-mother.” 

He then shot a deer, and returning home, put some 
of the blood on the forehead and hands of the Ranee, 
and she thought then that he had really killed the 
Princesses, and said she felt quite well. 

Meantime the seven Princesses awoke, and when 
they found themselves all alone in the thick jungle they 
were much frightened, and began to call out as loud 
as they could, in hopes of making their father hear ; 
but he was by that time far away, and would not have 
been able to hear them, even had their voices been as 
loud as thunder. 

It so happened that this very day the seven young 
sons of a neighboring Rajah chanced to be hunting in 
that same jungle, and as they were returning home 
after the day’s sport was over, the youngest Prince said 
to his brothers : “ Stop, I think I hear some one crying 
and calling out. Do you not hear voices? Let us go 
B * 


34 Old Deccan Days . 

in the direction of the sound, and try and find out what 
it is.” 

So the seven Princes rode through the wood until 
they came to the place where the seven Princesses sat 
crying and wringing their hands. At the sight of them 
the young Princes were very much astonished, and still 
more so on learning their story ; and they settled that 
each should take one of these poor forlorn ladies home 
with him and marry her. 

So the first and eldest Prince took the eldest Princess 
home with him, and married her. 

And the second took the second ; 

And the third took the third ; 

And the fourth took the fourth ; 

And the fifth took the fifth ; 

And the sixth took the sixth ; 

And the seventh, and handsomest of all, took the 
beautiful Balna. 

And when they got to their own land, there was 
great rejoicing throughout the kingdom at the mar- 
riage of the seven young Princes to seven such beau- 
tiful Princesses. 

About a year after this Balna had a little son, and 
his uncles and aunts were all so fond of the boy that 
it was as if he had seven fathers and seven mothers. 
None of the other Princes or Princesses had any chil- 
dren, so the son of the seventh Prince and Balna was 
acknowledged their heir by all the rest. 

They had thus lived very happily for some time, 
when one fine day the seventh Prince (Balna’s hus- 
band) said he would go out hunting, and away he 
went ; and they waited long for him, but he never 
came back. 


Punchkin . 


35 


Then his six brothers said they would go and see 
what had become of him ; and they went away, but 
they also did not return. 

And the seven Princesses grieved very much, for they 
felt sure their kind husbands must have been killed. 

One day, not long after this had happened, as Balna 
was rocking her baby’s cradle, and whilst her sisters 
were working in the room below, there came to the 
palace door a man in a long black dress, who said that 
he was a Fakeer,* and came to beg. The servants 
said to him, “You cannot go into the palace — the Ra- 
jah’s sons have all gone away ; we think they must be 
dead, and their widows cannot be interrupted by your 
begging.” But he said, “ I am a holy man ; you must 
let me in.” Then the stupid servants let him walk 
through the palace, but they did not know that this 
man was no Fakeer, but a wicked Magician named 
Punchkin. 

Punchkin Fakeer wandered through the palace, and 
saw many beautiful things there, till at last he reached 
the room where Balna sat singing beside her little boy’s 
cradle. The Magician thought her more beautiful than 
all the other beautiful things he had seen, insomuch 
that he asked her to go home with him and to marry 
him. But she said, “ My husband, I fear, is dead, but 
my little boy is still quite young ; I will stay here and 
teach him to grow up a clever man, and when he is 
grown up he shall go out into the world, and try and 
learn tidings of his father. Heaven forbid that I should 
ever leave him or marry you.” At these words the 
Magician was very angry, and turned her into a little 
black dog, and led her away, saying, “ Since you will 
* Holy beggar. 


Old Deccan Days. 


36 

not come with me of your own free will, I will make 
you.” So the poor Princess was dragged away, with- 
out any power of effecting an escape, or of letting her 
sisters know what had become of her. As Punchkin 
passed through the palace gate the servants said to him, 
“Where did you get that pretty little dog?” And he 
answered, “ One of the Princesses gave it to me as a 
present.” At hearing which they let him go without 
further questioning. 

Soon after this the six elder Princesses heard the 
little baby, their nephew, begin to cry, and when they 
went up stairs they were much surprised to find him 
all alone, and Balna nowhere to be seen. Then they 
questioned the servants, and when they heard of the 
Fakeer and the little black dog, they guessed what had 
happened, and sent in every direction seeking them, 
but neither the Fakeer nor the dog were to be found. 
What could six poor women do ? They had to give 
up all hopes of ever seeing their kind husbands, and 
their sister and her husband again, and they devoted 
themselves thenceforward to teaching and taking care 
of their little nephew. 

Thus time went on, till Balna’s son was fourteen 
years old. Then one day his aunts told him the his- 
tory of the family ; and no sooner did he hear it than 
he was seized with a great desire to go in search of his 
father and mother and uncles, and bring them home 
again if he could find them alive. His aunts, on learn- 
ing his determination, were much alarmed and tried to 
dissuade him, saying, “We have lost our husbands, 
and our sister and her husband, and you are now our 
sole hope ; if you go away, what shall we do ?” But 
he replied, “ I pray you not to be discouraged ; I will 


Punchkin. 


37 


return soon, and, if it is possible, bring my father and 
mother and uncles with me.” So he sat out on his 
travels, but for some months he could learn nothing to 
help him in his search. 

At last, after he had journeyed many hundreds of weary 
miles, and become almost hopeless of ever being able 
to hear anything further of his parents, he one day came 
to a country which seemed full of stones and rocks and 
trees, and there he saw a large palace with a high 
tower ; hard by which was a Malee’s* little house. 

As he was looking about, the Malee’s wife saw him, 
and ran out of the house and said, u My dear boy, who 
are you that dare venture to this dangerous place ?” 
And he answered, “ I am a Rajah’s son, and I come in 
search of my father and my uncles, and my mother 
whom a wicked enchanter bewitched.” Then the Ma- 
lee’s wife said, “ This country and this palace belong to 
a great Enchanter ; he is all-powerful, and if any one 
displeases him, he can turn them into stones and trees. 
All the rocks and trees you see here were living people 
once, and the Magician turned them to what they now 
are. Some time ago a Rajah’s son came here, and 
shortly afterward came his six brothers, and they were 
all turned into stones and trees ; and these are not the 
only unfortunate ones, for up in that tower lives a beau- 
tiful Princess, whom the Magician has kept prisonei 
there for twelve years, because she hates him and will 
not marry him.” 

Then the little Prince thought, “ These must be my 
parents and my uncles. I have found what I seek at 
last.” So he told his story to the Malee’s wife, and 
begged her to help him to remain in that place a while, 
* Gardener’s. 


4 


Old Deccan Days. 


33 

and inquire further concerning the unhappy people she 
mentioned ; and she promised to befriend him, and ad- 
vised his disguising himself, lest the Magician should 
see him, and turn him likewise into stone. To this the 
Prince agreed. So the Malee’s wife dressed him up in 
a saree,* and pretended that he was her daughter. 

One day, not long after this, as the Magician was 
walking in his garden, he saw the little girl (as he 
thought) playing about, and asked her who she was. 
She told him she was the Malee’s daughter, and the 
Magician said, “ You are a pretty little girl, and to- 
morrow you shall take a present of flowers from me to 
the beautiful lady who lives in the tower.” 

The young Prince was much delighted at hearing 
this, and after some consultation with the Malee’s wife, 
he settled that it would be more safe for him to retain 
his disguise, and trust to the chance of a favorable op- 
portunity for establishing some communication with his 
mother, if it were indeed she. 

Now it happened that at Balna’s marriage her hus- 
band had given her a small gold ring, on which her name 
was engraved, and she put it on her little son’s finger 
when he was a baby, and afterward, when he was older, 
his aunts had had it enlarged for him, so that he was 
still able to wear it. The Malee’s wife advised him to 
fasten the well-known treasure to one of the bouquets 
he presented to his mother, and trust to her recognizing 
it. This was not to be done without difficulty, as such 
a strict watch was kept over the poor Princess (for fear 
of her ever establishing communication with her friends) 
that though the supposed Malee’s daughter was permit- 
ted to take her flowers every day, the Magician or one 
* A woman’s dress. 


Punchkin . 


39 


of his slaves was always in the room at the time. At 
last one day, however, opportunity favored him, and 
when no one was looking the boy tied the ring to a 
nosegay and threw it at Balna’s feet. The ring fell 
with a clang on the floor, and Balna, looking to see what 
made the strange sound, found the little ring tied to the 
flowers. On recognizing it, she at once believed the 
story her son told her of his long search, and begged 
him to advise her as to what she had better do ; at the 
same time entreating him on no account to endanger 
his life by trying to rescue her. She told him that for 
twelve long years the Magician had kept her shut up in 
the tower, because she refused to marry him, and she 
was so closely guarded that she saw no hope of re- 
lease. 

Now Balna’s son was a bright, clever boy ; so he 
said, “ Do not fear, dear mother ; the first thing to do is 
to discover how far the Magician’s power extends, in 
order that we may be able to liberate my father and 
uncles, whom he has imprisoned in the form of rocks 
and trees. You have spoken to him angrily for twelve 
long years ; do you now rather speak kindly. Tell him 
you have given up all hopes of again seeing the hus- 
band you have so long mourned, and say you are willing 
to marry him. Then endeavor to find out what his 
power consists in, and whether he is immortal or can 
be put to death.” 

Balna determined to take her son’s advice ; and the 
next day sent for Punchkin and spoke to him as had 
been suggested. 

The Magician, greatly delighted, begged her to allow 
the wedding to take place as soon as possible. 

But she told him that before she married him he 


4 o 


Old Deccan Days. 


must allow her a little more time, in which she might 
make his acquaintance, and, that, after being enemies 
so long, their friendship could but strengthen by de- 
grees. u And do tell me,” she said, “ are you quite im- 
mortal? Can death never touch you? And are you 
too great an enchanter ever to feel human suffering?” 

u Why do you ask?” said he. 

“ Because,” she replied, “ if I am to be your wife, I 
would fain know all about you, in order, if any calam- 
ity threatens you, to overcome, or, if possible, to avert 
it.” 

“ It is true,” he said, u that I flm not as others. Far, 
far away, hundreds of thousands of miles from this, 
there lies a desolate country covered with thick jungle. 
In the midst of the jungle grows a circle of palm trees, 
and in the centre of the circle stand six chattees full of 
water, piled one above another ; below the sixth chattee 
is a small cage which contains a little green parrot : on 
the life of the parrot depends my life, and if the parrot 
is killed I must die. It is, however,” he added, “ im- 
possible that the parrot should sustain any injury, both 
on account of the inaccessibility of the country, and be- 
cause, by my appointment, many thousand evil genii 
surround the palm trees, and kill all who approach the 
place.” 

Balna told her son what Punchkin had said, but, at 
the same time, implored him to give up all idea of get- 
ting the parrot. 

The prince, however, replied, u Mother, unless I can 
get hold of that parrot, you and my father and uncles 
cannot be liberated : be not afraid, I will shortly return. 
Do you, meantime, keep the Magician in good humor — 
still putting off your marriage with him on various pre- 


Punchkin. 


4 1 


texts ; and before he finds out the cause of delay I will 
return.” So saying, he went away. 

Many, many weary miles did he travel, till at last he 
came to a thick jungle, and being very tired, sat down 
under a tree and fell asleep. He was awakened by a 
soft rustling sound, and looking about him, saw a large 
serpent which was making its way to an eagle’s nest 
built in the tree under which he lay, and in the nest 
were two young eagles. The Prince, seeing the dan- 
ger of the young birds, drew his sword and killed the 
serpent ; at the same moment a rushing sound was 
heard in the air, and the two old eagles, who had been 
out hunting for food for their young ones, returned. 
They quickty saw the dead serpent and the young 
Prince standing over it ; and the old mother eagle said 
to him, “ Dear boy, for many years all our young have 
been devoured by that cruel serpent : you have now 
saved the lives of our children ; whenever you are in 
need, therefore, send to us and we will help you ; and 
as for these little eagles, take them, and let them be 
your servants.” 

At this the Prince was very glad, and the two eaglets 
crossed their wings, on which he mounted ; and they 
carried him far, far away over the thick jungles, until 
he came to the place where grew the circle of palm 
trees, in the midst of which stood the six chattees full 
of water. It was the middle of the day. All round 
the trees were the genii fast asleep : nevertheless, there 
were such countless thousands of them that it would 
have been quite impossible for any one to walk through 
their ranks to the place. Down swooped the strong- 
winged eaglets — down jumped the prince : in an instant 
he had overthrown the six chattees full of water, and 


42 


Old Deccan Days . 


seized the little green parrot, which he rolled up in his 
cloak ; while, as he mounted again into the air, all the 
genii below awoke, and, finding their treasure gone, 
set up a wild and melancholy howl. 

Away, away flew the little eagles till they came to 
then home in the great tree ; then the Prince said to 
the old eagles, “ Take back your little ones ; they have 
done me good service ; if ever again I stand in need 
of help, I will not fail to come to you.” He then con- 
tinued his journey on foot till he arrived once more at 
the Magician’s palace, where he sat down at the door 
and began playing with the parrot. The Magician 
saw him, and came to him quickly, and said, “ My boy, 
where did you get that parrot? Give it to me, I pray 
you.” But the Prince answered, “ Oh no, I cannot 
give away my parrot ; it is a great pet of mine ; I have 
had it many years.” Then the Magician said, “If it is 
an old favorite, I can understand your not caring to 
give it away ; but come, what will you sell it for ?” 
“ Sir,” replied the Prince, “ I will not sell my parrot.” 

Then the Magician got frightened, and said, “ Any- 
thing, anything ; name what price you will, and it 
shall be yours.” “ Then,” the Prince answered, “ I 
will that you liberate the Rajah’s seven sons who you 
turned into rocks and trees.” “ It is done as you de- 
sire,” said the Magician, only give me my parrot.” 
(And with that, by a stroke of his wand, Balna’s hus- 
band and his brothers resumed their natural shapes.) 
“ Now give me my parrot,” repeated Punchkin. “ Not 
so fast, my master,” rejoined the Prince ; “ I must first 
beg that you will restore to life all whom you have 
thus imprisoned.” 

The Magician immediately waved his wand again ; 


Punclikin. 


43 


and whilst he cried in an imploring voice, “ Give me 
my parrot !” the whole garden became suddenly alive : 
where rock and stones and trees had been before, stood 
Rajahs and Punts* and Sirdars, f and mighty men on 
prancing horses, and jeweled pages and troops of 
armed attendants. 

“ Give me my parrot !” cried Punclikin. Then the 
boy took hold of the parrot, and tore off one of his 
wings ; and as he did so the Magician’s right arm fell 
off. 

Punchkin then stretched out his left arm, crying, 
“ Give me my parrot !” The Prince pulled off the 
parrot’s second wing, and the Magician’s left arm tum- 
bled off. 

“ Give me my parrot !” cried he, and fell on his 
knees. The Prince pulled off the parrot’s right leg — 
the Magician’s right leg fell off : the Prince pulled off 
the parrot’s left leg — down fell the Magician’s left. 

Nothing remained of him save the limbless body and 
the head ; but still he rolled his eyes, and cried, “ Give 
me my parrot !” “ Take your parrot, then,” cried the 

boy, and with that he wrung the bird’s neck and threw 
it at the Magician ; and as he did so, Punchkin’s head 
twisted round, and with a fearful groan he died ! 

Then they let Balna out of the tower ; and she, hei 
son and the seven Princes went to their own country, 
and lived very happily ever afterward. And as to 
the rest of the world, every one went to his own house. 

* Principal ministers. f Nobles or chiefs. 



II. 


A FUNNY STORY. 

O NCE upon a time there were a Rajah and Ranee 
who were much grieved because they had no 
children, and the little dog in the palace had also no 
little puppies. At last the Rajah and Ranee had some 
children, and it also happened that the pet dog in the 
palace had some little puppies ; but, unfortunately, the 
Ranee’s two children were two little puppies ! and the 
dog’s two little puppies were two pretty little girls ! 
This vexed her majesty very much ; and sometimes 
when the dog had gone away to its dinner, the Ranee 
used to put the two little puppies (her children) into 
the kennel, and carry away the dog’s two little girls to 
the palace. Then the poor dog grew very unhappy, and 
said, “ They never will leave my two little children 
alone. I must take them away into the jungle, or 
their lives will be worried out.” So one night she took 
the little girls in her mouth and ran with them to the 
jungle, and there made them a home in a pretty cave 
in the rock, beside a clear stream ; and every day she 
would go into the towns and carry away some nice 
currie and rice to give her little daughters ; and if she 
found any pretty clothes or jewels that she could bring 
away in her mouth, she used to take them also for the 
children. 


44 


45 


A Funny Story. 

Now it happened some time after this, one day, when 
the dog had gone to fetch her daughters’ dinner, two 
young Princes (a Rajah and his brother) came to hunc 
in the jungle, and they hunted all day and found no- 
thing. It hzd been very hot, and they were thirsty ; so 
they went to a tree which grew on a little piece of high 
ground, and sent their attendants to search all round 
for water ; but no one could find any. At last one of 
the hunting dogs came to the foot of the tree quite 
muddy, and the Rajah said, “Look, the dog is muddy: 
he must have found water : follow him, and see where 
he goes.” The attendants followed the dog, and saw 
him go to the stream at the mouth of the cave where 
the two children were ; and the two children also saw 
them, and were very much frightened and ran inside 
the cave. Then the attendants returned to the two 
Princes, and said, “ We have found clear, sparkling 
water flowing past a cave, and, what is more, within 
the cave are two of the most lovely young ladies that 
eye ever beheld, clothed in fine dresses and covered 
with jewels ; but when they saw us they were fright- 
ened and ran away.” On hearing this the Princes 
bade their servants lead them to the place ; and when 
they saw the two young girls, they were quite charmed 
with them, and asked them to go to their kingdom and 
become their wives. The maidens were frightened ; 
but at last the Rajah and his brother persuaded them, 
and they went, and the Rajah married the eldest sister, 
and his brother married the youngest. 

When the dog returned, she was grieved to find her 
children gone, and for twelve long years the poor thing 
ran many, many miles to find them, but in vain. At 
last one day she came to the place where the two Prin- 


4 6 


Old Dcccan Days. 


cesses lived. Now it chanced that the eldest, the wife 
of the Rajah, was looking out of the window, and see- 
ing the dog run down the street, she said, “ That 
must be my dear long-lost mother. ,, So she ran into 
the street as fast as possible, and took the tired dog in 
her arms, and brought her into her own room, and 
made her a nice comfortable bed on the floor, and 
bathed her feet, and was very kind to her. Then the 
dog said to her, u My daughter, you are good and 
kind, and it is a great joy to me to see you again ; but 
I must not stay ; I will first go and see your younger 
sister, and then return. ,, The Ranee answered, “ Do 
not do so, dear mother ; rest here to-day ; to-morrow I 
will send and let my sister know, and she, too, will 
come and see you.” But the poor, silly dog would 
not stay, but ran to the house of her second daughter. 
Now the second daughter was looking out of the win- 
dow when the unfortunate creature came to the door, 
and seeing the dog she said to herself, “ That must 
be my mother. What will my husband think if he 
learns that this wretched, ugly, miserable-looking dog 
is my mother ?” So she ordered her servants to go and 
throw stones at it, and drive it away, and they did so ; 
and one large stone hit the dog’s head, and she ran 
back, very much hurt, to her eldest daughter’s house. 
The Ranee saw her coming, and ran out into the street 
and brought her in in her arms, and did all she could 
to make her well, saying, “Ah, mother, mother ! why 
did you ever leave my house ?” But all her care was 
in vain : the poor dog died. Then the Ranee thought 
her husband might be vexed if he found a dead dog 
(an unclean animal) in the palace ; so she put the body 
in a small room into which the Rajah hardly ever went, 


A Funny Story. 4 j 

intending to have it reverently buried ; and over it she 
placed a basket turned topsy-turvy. 

It so happened, however, that when the Rajah came 
to visit his wife, as chance would have it, he went 
through this very room : and tripping over the up- 
turned basket, called for a light to see what it was. 
Then, lo and behold ! there lay the statue of a dog, life 
size, composed entirely of diamonds, emeralds, and 
other precious stones, set in gold ! So he called out to 
his wife, and said, “ Where did you get this beautiful 
dog?” And when the Ranee saw the golden dog, she 
was very much frightened, and, I’m sorry to say, in- 
stead of telling her husband the truth, she told a story, 
and said, “ Oh, it is only a present my parents sent 
me. 

Now see what trouble she got into for not telling the 
truth. 

“ Onlyl” said the Rajah; “why this is valuable 
enough to buy the whole of my kingdom. Your pa- 
rents must be very rich people to be able to send you 
such presents as this. How is it you never told me of 
them ? Where do they live ?” (Now she had to tell 
another story to cover the first.) She said, “ In the 
jungle.” He replied, “ I will go and see them ; you 
must take me and show where they live.” Then the 
Ranee thought, “ What will the Rajah say when he 
finds I have been telling him such stories ? He will 
order my head to be cut off.” So she said, “You 
must first give me a palanquin, and I will go into the 
jungle and tell them you are coming ;” but really she 
determined to kill herself, and so get out of her difficul- 
ties. Away she went ; and when she had gone some 
distance in her palanquin, she saw a large white ants* 


Old Deccan Days . 


4 S 

nest, over which hung a cobra, with its mouth wide 
open ; then the Ranee thought, “ I will go to that 
cobra and put my finger in his mouth, that he may bite 
me, and so I shall die.” So she ordered the palkee- 
bearers to wait, and said she would be back in a while, 
and got out, and ran to the ants’ nest, and put her 
finger in the cobra’s mouth. Now a large thorn had 
run, a short time before, into the cobra’s throat, and 
hurt him very much ; and the Ranee, by putting her 
finger into his mouth, pushed out this thorn ; then the 
cobra, feeling much better, turned to her, and said, 
“ My dear daughter, you have done me a great kind- 
ness ; what return can I make you ?” The Ranee told 
him all her story, and begged him to bite her, that she 
might die. But the cobra said, “You did certainly 
very wrong to tell the Rajah that story ; nevertheless, 
you have been very kind to me. I will help you in 
your difficulty. Send your husband here. I will pro- 
vide you with a father and mother of whom you need 
not be ashamed.” So the Ranee returned joyfully to 
the palace, and invited her husband to come and see 
her parents. 

When they reached the spot near where the cobra 
was, what a wonderful sight awaited them ! There, in 
the place which had before been thick jungle, stood a 
splendid palace, twenty-four miles long and twenty- 
four miles broad, with gardens and trees and fountains 
all round ; and the light shining from it was to be seen 
a hundred miles off. The walls were made of gold and 
precious stones, and the carpets cloth of gold. Hun- 
dreds of servants, in rich dresses, stood waiting in the 
long, lofty rooms ; and in the last room of all, upon 
golden thrones, sat a magnificent old Rajah and Ranee, 


A Funny Story. 


49 


who introduced themselves to the young Rajah as his 
papa and mamma-in-law. The Rajah and Ranee 
stayed at the palace six months, and were entertained 
the whole of that time with feasting and music ; and 
they left for their own home loaded with presents. Be- 
fore they started, however, the Ranee went to her friend, 
the cobra, and said, “You have conjured up all these 
beautiful things to get me out of my difficulties, but my 
husband, the Rajah, has enjoyed his visit so much that 
he will certainly want to come here again. Then, if he 
returns and finds nothing at all, he will be very angry 
with me.” The friendly cobra answered, “ Do not 
fear. When you have gone twenty-four miles on your 
journey, look back, and see what you will see.” So 
they started ; and on looking back at the end of twenty- 
four miles, saw the whole of the splendid palace in 
flames, the fire reaching up to heaven. The Rajah re- 
turned to see it he could help anybody to escape, or 
invite them in their distress to his court ; but he found 
that all was burnt down — not a stone nor a living crea- 
ture remained ! 

Then he grieved much over the sad fate of his pa- 
rents-in-law. 

When the party returned home, the Rajah’s brother 
said to him, “ Where did you get these magnificent 
presents?” He replied, “They are gifts from my 
father and mother-in-law.” At this news the Rajah’s 
brother went home to his wife very discontented, ancj 
asked her why she had never told him of her parents, 
and taken him to see them, whereby he might have re- 
ceived rich gifts as well as his brother. His wife then 
went to her sister, and asked how she had managed to 
get all the things. But the Ranee said, “ Go away, 
5 C 


5o 


Old Deccan Days . 


you wicked woman. I will not speak to you. You 
killed the pocr dog, our mother.” 

But afterward she told her all about it. 

The sister then said, “ I shall go and see the cobra, 
and get presents too.” The Ranee then answered, — 
u You can go if you like.” 

So the sister ordered her palanquin, and told her hus- 
band she was going to see her parents, and prepare them 
for a visit from him. When she reached the ants* nest, 
she saw the cobra therfe, and she went and put her fin- 
ger in his mouth, and the cobra bit her, and she died. 




III. 

BRAVE SEVENTEE BA I. 

S IU RAJAH,* who reigned long years ago in the 
country of Agrabrum, had an only son, to whom 
he was passionately attached. The Prince, whose 
name was Logedas, was young and handsome, and had 
married the beautiful Princess, Parbuttee Bai. 

Now it came to pass that Siu Rajah’s Wuzeerf had 
a daughter called Seventee Bai (the Daisy Lady), who 
was as fair as the morning, and beloved by all for her 
gentleness and goodness ; and when Logedas Rajah 
saw her, he fell in love with her, and determined to 
marry her. But when Siu Rajah heard of this he was 
very angry, and sent for his son, and said : “ Of all 
that is rich and costly in my kingdom I have withheld 
nothing from you, and in Parbuttee Bai you have a wife 
as fair as heart could wish ; nevertheless, if you are 
desirous of having a second wife, I freely give you 
leave to do so ; there are daughters of many neighbor- 
ing kings who would be proud to become your Queen, 
but it is beneath your dignity to marry a Wuzeer’s 
daughter ; and, if you do, my love for you shall not 
prevent my expelling you from the kingdom.” Loge- 
das did not heed his father’s threat, and he married 
Seventee Bai ; which the Rajah learning, ordered him 
* Or Singh Rajah, the Lion King. f Or Vizier. 

51 


5 2 


Old Deccan Days. 


immediately to quit the country ; but yet, because he 
loved him much, he gave Logedas many elephants, 
camels, horses, palanquins and attendants, that he 
might not need help on the journey, and that his rank 
might be apparent to all. 

So Logedas Rajah and his two young wives set forth 
on their travels. Before, however, they had gone very 
far, the Prince dismissed the whole of his retinue, ex- 
cept the elephant on which he himself rode, and the 
palanquin, carried by two men, in which his wives 
traveled. Thus, almost alone, he started through the 
jungle in search of a new home ; but, being wholly ig- 
norant of that part of the country, before they had gone 
very far they lost their way. The poor Princesses 
were reduced to a state of great misery ; day after day 
they wandered on, living on roots or wild berries and 
the leaves of trees pounded down ; and by night they 
were terrified by the cries of wild beasts in search of 
prey. Logedas Rajah became more melancholy and 
desponding every day ; until, one night, maddened by 
the thought of his wives’ sad condition, and unable 
longer to bear the sight of their distress, he got up, 
and casting aside his royal robes, twisted a coarse hand- 
kerchief about his head, after the manner of a fakeer’s 
(holy beggar’s) turban, and throwing a woolen cloak 
around him, ran away in disguise into the jungle. 

A little while after he had gone, the Wuzepr’s 
daughter awoke and found Parbuttee Bai crying bitterly. 
“ Sister dear,” said she, “ what is the matter?” “Ah, 
sister,” answered Parbuttee Bai, “ I am crying because 
in my dreams I thought our husband had dressed him- 
self like a fakeer and run away into the jungle ; and I 
awoke, and found it was all true : he has gone, and left 


Brave Seventee Bai. 


53 

us here alone. It would have been better we had died 
than that such a misfortune should have befallen us.” 
u Do not cry,” said Seventee Bai : u if we cry we are 
lost, for the palkee-bearers* will think we are only two 
weak women, and will run away, and leave us in the 
iungle, out of which we can never get by ourselves. 
Keep a cheerful mind, and all will be well ; who 
knows but we may yet find our husband? Meanwhile, 
I will dress myself in his clothes, and take the name of 
Seventee Rajah, and you shall be my wife ; and the 
palkee-bearers will think it is only I that have been 
lost ; and it will not seem very wonderful to them that in 
such a place as this a wild beast should have devoured 
me. 

Then Parbuttee Bai smiled and said, “ Sister, you 
speak well ; you have a brave heart. I will be your lit- 
tle wife.” 

So Seventee Bai dressed herself in her husband’s 
clothes, and next day she mounted the elephant as he 
had done, and ordered the bearers to take up the palkee 
in which Parbuttee Bai was, and again attempt to find 
their way out of the jungle. The palkee-bearers won- 
dered much to themselves what had become of Seven- 
tee Bai, and they said to one another, “ How selfish 
and how fickle are the rich ! See now our young 
Rajah, who married the Wuzeer’s daughter and brought 
all this trouble on himself thereby (and in truth ’tis said 
she was a beautiful lady), he seemed to love her as his 
own soul ; but now that she has been devoured by some 
cruel animal in this wild jungle, he appears scarcely to 
mourn her death.” 

After journeying for some days under the wise direc- 
* I. e.y palanquin-bearers. 


5d 


Old Deccan Days . 

tion of the Wuzeer’s daughter, the party found them- 
selves getting out of the jungle, and at last they came 
to an open plain, in the middle of which was a large 
city. When the citizens saw the elephant coming they 
ran out to see who was on it, and returning, told their 
Rajah that a very handsome Rajah, richly dressed, was 
riding toward the city, and that he brought with him 
his wife — a most lovely Princess. Whereupon the 
Rajah of that country sent to Seventee Bai, and asked 
her who she was, and why she had come ? Seventee 
Bai replied, “ My name is Seventee Rajah. My father 
was angry with me, and drove me from his kingdom ; 
and I and my wife have been wandering for many days 
in the jungle, where we lost our way.” 

The Rajah and all his court; thought they had never 
seen so brave and royal-looking a Prince ; and the Ra- 
jah said that if Seventee Rajah would take service 
under him, he would give him as much money as he 
liked. To whom the Wuzeer’s daughter replied : “I 
am not accustomed to take service under anybody ; but 
you are good to us in receiving us courteously and offer- 
ing us your protection ; therefore, give me whatever 
post you please, and I will be your faithful servant.” 
So the Rajah gave Seventee Bai a salary of <£24,000 a- 
year and a beautiful house, and treated her with the 
greatest confidence, consulting her in all matters of im- 
portance, and entrusting her with many state affairs ; 
and from her gentleness and kindness, none felt envious 
at her good fortune, but she was beloved and honored 
by all ; and thus these two Princesses lived for twelve 
years in that city. No one suspected that Seventee 
Bai was not the Rajah she pretended to be, and she 
most strictly forbade Parbuttee Bai’s making a great 


Brave Seventee Bal. 


55 


friend of anybody, or admitting any one to her confi- 
dence ; for, she said, “Who knows, then, but some 
day you may, unawares, reveal that I am only Seven 
tee Bai ; and, though I love you as my very sister, if 
that were told by you, I would kill you with my own 
hands.” 

Now the King’s palace was on the side of the city 
nearest to the jungle, and one night the Ranee was 
awakened by loud and piercing shrieks coming from 
that direction ; so she woke her husband, and said, “ I 
am so frightened by that terrible noise that I cannot 
sleep. Send some one to see what is the matter.” And 
the Rajah called all his attendants, and said, “ Go down 
toward the jungle and see what that noise is about.” 
But they were all afraid, for the night was very dark, 
and the noise very dreadful, and they said to him : 
“We are afraid to go. We dare not do so by ourselves. 
Send for this young Rajah who is such a favorite of 
yours, and tell him to go. He is brave. You pay him 
more than you do us all. What is the good of your 
paying him so much, unless he can be of use when he 
is wanted ?” So they all went to Seventee Bai’s house, 
and when she heard what .was the matter, she jumped 
up, and said she would go down to the jungle and see 
what the noise was. 

This noise had been made by a Rakshas,* who was 
standing under a gallows on which a thief had been 
hanged the day before. He had been trying to reach 
the corpse with his cruel claws ; but it was just too high 
for him, and he was howling with rage and disappoint- 

* Gigantic demoniacal ogres, who can at will assume any 
shape. Their chief terresti ial delight is said to be digging dead 
bodies out of their graves and devouring them. 


Old Deccan Days . 


56 

ment. When, however, the Wuzeer’s daughter reached 
the place, no Rakshas was to be seen ; but in his stead 
a very old woman, in a wonderful glittering saree, sit- 
ting wringing her withered hands under the gallows 
tree, and above, the corpse, swaying about in the night 
wind. “ Old woman,” said Seventee Bai, u what is 
the matter?” “Alas!” said the Rakshas (for it was 
he), “ my son hangs above on that gallows. He is 
dead, he is dead ! and I am too bent with age to be able 
to reach the rope and cut his body down.” “ Poor old 
woman !” said Seventee Bai ; “ get upon my shoulders, 
and you will then be tall enough to reach your son.” 
So the Rakshas mounted on Seventee Bai’s shoulders, 
who held him steady by his glittering saree. Now, as 
she stood there, Seventee Bai began to think the old 
woman was a very long time cutting the rope round the 
dead man’s neck ; and just at that moment the moon 
shone out from behind a cloud, and Seventee Bai, looking 
up, saw that instead of a feeble old woman, she was 
supporting on her shoulders a Rakshas, who was tear- 
ing down portions of the flesh and devouring it. Hor- 
ror-stricken, she sprang back, and with a shrill scream 
the Rakshas fled away, leaving in her hands the shin- 
ing saree. 

Seventee Bai did not choose to say anything about 
this adventure to the Ranee, not wishing to alarm her ; 
so she merely returned to the palace, and said that the 
noise was made by an old woman whom she had found 
crying under the gallows. She then returned home, 
and gave the bright saree to Parbuttee Bai. 

One fine day, some time after this, two of the 
Rajah’s little daughters thought they would go and see 
Parbuttee Bai ; and as it happened, Parbuttee Bai had 


Brave Seventee Bat . 


57 


on the Rakshas’ saree, and was standing by the half- 
closed window shutters looking out, when the Prin 
cesses arrived at her house. The little Princesses were 
quite dazzled by the golden saree, and running home 
said to their mother, “ That young Rajah’s wife has the 
most beautiful saree we ever saw. It shines like the 
sun, and dazzles one’s eyes. We have no sarees half 
so beautiful, and although you are Ranee, you have 
none so rich as that. Why do you not get one too ?” 

When the Ranee heard about Parbuttee Bai’s saree 
she was very eager to have one like it ; and she said to 
the Rajah, “ Your servant’s wife is dressed more richly 
than your Ranee. I hear Parbuttee Bai has a saree 
more costly than any of mine. Now, therefore, I beg 
you to get me one like hers ; for I cannot rest until I 
have one equally costly.” 

Then the Rajah sent for Seventee Bai, and said, 
“ Tell me where your wife got her beautiful golden 
saree ; for the Ranee desires to have one like it.” 
Seventee Bai answered, “Noble master, that saree came 
from a very far country — even the country of the Rak- 
shas. It is impossible to get one like it here ; but if 
you give me leave I will go and search for their coun- 
try, and, if I succeed in finding it, bring you home 
sarees of the same kind.” And the Rajah was very 
much pleased, and ordered Seventee Bai to go. So 
she returned to her house and bade good-bye to Par- 
buttee Bai, and warned her to be discreet and cautious ; 
and then, mounting her horse, rode away in search of 
the Rakshas’ country. 

Seventee Bai traveled for many days through the 
jungle, going one hundred miles every day, and stay- 
ing to rest every now and then at little villages on her 
C * 


58 


Old Deccan Days . 


road. At last one day, after having gone several hun- 
dred miles, she came to a fine city situated on the banks 
of a beautiful river, and on the city walls a proclama- 
tion was painted in large letters. Seventee Bai in- 
quired of the people what u meant, who told her that 
it was to say the Rajah’s daughter would marry any 
man who could tame a certain pony belonging to her 
father, which was very vicious. 

“Has no one been able to manage it?” asked Sev- 
entee Bai. “ No one,” they said. “ Many have tried, 
but failed miserably. The pony was born on the same 
day as the Princess. It is so fierce that no one can ap- 
proach it ; but when the Princess heard how wild it 
it was, she vowed she would marry no one who could 
not tame it. Every one who likes is free to try.” 
Then Seventee Bai said, “ Show me the pony to- 
morrow. I think I shall be able to tame it.” They 
answered, “ You can try if you like, but it is very dan- 
gerous, and you are but a youth.” She replied, “ God 
gives his strength to the weak. I do not fear.” So 
she went to sleep, and early next morning they beat a 
drum all round the town to let every one know that 
another man was going to try and tame the Rajah’s 
pony, and all the people flocked out of their houses to 
see the sight. The pony was in a field near the river, 
and Seventee Bai ran up to it, as it came running to- 
ward her intending to trample her to death, and seized 
it firmly by the mane, so that it could neither strike her 
with its fore legs nor kick her. The pony tried to 
shake her off, but Seventee Bai clung firmly on, and 
finally jumped on its back ; and when the pony found 
that it was mastered, it became quite gentle and tame. 
Then Seventee Bai, to show how completely she had 


Brave Seventee Bat. 


59 


conquered, put spurs to the pony to make it jump the 
river, and the pony immediately sprang up in the air and 
right across the river (which was a jump of three miles), 
and this it did three times (for it was strong and agile, 
and had never been ridden before) ; and when all the 
people saw this they shouted for joy, and ran down to 
the river bank and brought Seventee Bai, riding in tri- 
umph on the pony, to she the Rajah. And the Rajah 
said, “ Oh, best of men, and worthy of all honor, you 
have won my daughter.” So he took Seventee Bai to 
the palace and paid her great honor, and gave her 
jewels and rich clothes? and horses and camels innu- 
merable. The Princess also came to greet the winner 
of her hand. Then they said, “ To-morrow shall be the 
wedding day.” But Seventee Bai replied, “ Great 
Rajah and beautiful Princess, I am going on an import- 
ant errand of my own Rajah’s ; let me, I pray you, 
first accomplish the duty on which I am bound, and on 
my way home I will come through this city and claim 
my bride.” At this they were both pleased, and the 
Rajah said, “ It is well spoken. Do not let us hinder 
your keeping faith with your own Rajah. Go youi 
way. We shall eagerly await your return, when you 
shall claim the Princess and all your possessions, and 
we will have such a gay wedding as was not since the 
world began.” And they went out with her to the 
borders of their land, and showed her on her way. 

So the Wuzeer’s daughter traveled on in search of 
the Rakshas’ country, until at last one day she came in 
sight of another fine large town. Here she rested in 
the house for travelers for some days. Now the Rajah 
of this country had a very beautiful daughter, who was 
his only child, and for her he had built a splendid bath. 


6o 


Old Deccan Days . 

It was like a little sea, and had high marble walls all 
around, with a hedge of spikes at the top of the walls, 
so high that at a distance it looked like a great castle. 
The young Princess was very fond of it, and she vowed 
she would only marry a man who could jump across 
her bath on horseback. This had happened some 
years before, but no one had been able to do it, which 
grieved the Rajah and Ranee very much ; for they 
wished to see their daughter happily married. And 
they said to her, “We shall both be dead before you 
get a husband. What folly is this, to expect that any 
one should be able to jump over those high marble 
walls, with the spikes at the top !” The Princess only 
answered, “ Then I will never marry. It matters not ; 
I will never have a husband who has not jumped 
those walls.” 

So the Rajah caused it to be proclaimed throughout 
the land that he would give his daughter in marriage, 
and great riches, to whoever could jump, on horseback, 
over the Princess’ bath. 

All this Seventee Bai learnt as soon as she arrived 
in the town, and she said, “ To-morrow I will try and 
jump over the Princess’ bath.” The country people 
said to her, “You speak foolishly: it is quite impos- 
sible.” She replied, “ Heaven, in which I trust, will 
help me.” So next day she rose up, and saddled her 
horse, and led him in front of the palace, and there she 
sprang on his back, and going at full gallop, leapt over 
the marble walls, over the spikes high up in the air, 
and down on to the ground on the other side of the 
bath ; and this she did three times, which, when the 
the Rajah saw, he was filled with joy, and sent for 
Seventee Bai, and said, u Tell me your name, brave 


Brave Seventee Bai . 6 1 

Prince ; for you are the only man in the world — you 
have won my daughter.” Then the Wuzeer’s daughter 
replied, “ My name is Seventee Rajah. I come from 
a far country on a mission from my Rajah to the coun- 
try of the Rakshas ; let me therefore, I pray you, first 
do my appointed work, and if I live to return, I will 
come through this country and claim my bride.” To 
which the Rajah consented, for he did not wish the 
Princess, his daughter, to undertake so long and tire- 
some a -journey. It was therefore agreed that the 
Princess should await Seventee Bai’s return at her 
father’s court, and that Seventee Bai herself should 
immediately proceed on her journey. 

From this place she went on for many, many days 
without adventure, and traversed a dense jungle, for 
her brave heart carried her through all difficulties. At 
last she arrived at another large city, beautifully situ- 
ated by a lake, with blue hills rising behind it, and 
sheltering it from the cutting winds ; little gardens 
filled with pomegranates, jasmine and other fragrant 
and lovely flowers reached down from the city to the 
water’s edge. 

Seventee Bai, tired with her long journey, rode up 
to one of the Malees’ houses, where the hospitable 
inmates, seeing she was a stranger and wear) 7 , offered 
her food and shelter for the night, which she thankfully 
accepted. 

As they all sat round the fire cooking their evening 
meal, Seventee Bai asked the Malee’s wife about the 
place and the people, and what was going on in the 
town. “ Much excitement,” she replied, “ has of late 
been caused by our Rajah’s dream, which no one can 
interpret.” “What did he dream?” asked Seventee 
6 


62 


Old Deccan Days, 


Bai. “ Ever since he was ten years old,” she replied, 
“ he has dreamed of a fair tree growing in a large gar- 
den. The stem of the tree is made of silver, the leaves 
are pure gold, and the fruit is bunches of pearls. The 
Rajah has inquired of all his wise men and seers where 
such a tree is to be found ; but they all replied, ‘ There 
is no such tree in the world wherefore he is dissatis- 
fied and melancholy. Moreover, the Princess, his 
daughter, hearing of her father’s dream, has determined 
to marry no man save the finder of this marvelous 
tree.” “ It is very odd,” said Seventee Bai ; and, their 
supper being over, she dragged her mattress outside 
the little house (as a man would have done), and, 
placing it in a sheltered .nook near the lake, knelt down, 
as her custom was, to say her prayers before going to 
sleep. 

As she knelt there, with her eyes fixed on the dark 
water, she saw, on a sudden, a glorious shining light 
coming slowly toward her, and discovered, in a minute 
or two more, that a very large cobra was crawling up 
the steps from the water’s edge, having in his mouth 
an enormous diamond, the size and shape of an egg, 
that sparkled and shone like a little sun, or as if one 
of the stars had suddenly dropped out of heaven. The 
cobra laid the diamond down at the top of the steps, 
and crawled away in search of food. Presently return- 
ing when the night was far spent, he picked up the 
diamond again, and slid down the steps with it into 
the lake. Seventee Bai knew not what to make of 
this, but she resolved to return to the same place next 
night and watch for the cobra. 

Again she saw him bring the diamond in his mouth, 
and take it away with him after his evening meal ; and 


Brave Seventee Bai. 


6 3 


again, a third night, the same thing. Then Seventee 
Bai determined to kill the cobra, and if possible secure 
the diamond. So early next morning she went into 
the bazaar, and ordered a blacksmith to make her a 
very strong iron trap, which should catch hold of any- 
thing it was let down upon so firmly as to require the 
strength of twelve men to get out of it. The black- 
smith did as he was ordered, and made a very strong 
trap ; the lower part of it was like knives, and when it 
caught hold of anything it required the strength of 
twelve men to break through it and escape. 

Seventee Bai had this trap hung up by a rope to a 
tree close to the lake, and all around she scattered 
flowers and sweet scents, such as cobras love ; and at 
nightfall she herself got into the tree just above the 
trap, and waited for the cobra to come as he was 
wont. 

About twelve o’clock the cobra came up the steps 
from the lake in search of food. He had the diamond 
in his mouth, and, attracted by the sweet scents and 
flowers, instead of going into the jungle, he proceeded 
toward the tree in which Seventee Bai was. 

When Seventee Bai saw him, she untied the rope 
and let down the trap upon him ; but for fear he might 
not be quite dead, she waited till morning before going 
to get the diamond. 

As soon as the sun was up, she went to look at her 
prey. There he lay cold and dead, with the diamond, 
which shone like a mountain of light, in his mouth. 
Seventee Bai took it, and, tired by her night of watch- 
ing, thought she would bathe in the lake before return- 
ing to the Malee’s cottage. So she ran and knelt down 
oy the brink, to dip her hands and face in the cool 


Old Deccan Days. 


64 

water ; but no sooner did she touch its surface with the 
diamond, than it rolled back in a wall on either hand, 
and she saw a pathway leading down below the lake, 
on each side of which were beautiful houses and gar- 
dens full of flowers, red, and white, and blue. Seven- 
tee Bai resolved to see whither this might lead, so she 
walked down the path until she came opposite a large 
door. She opened it, and found herself in a more 
lovely garden than she had ever seen on earth ; tall 
trees laden with rich fruit grew in it, and on the boughs 
were bright birds singing melodiously, while the ground 
was covered with flowers, among which flew many 
gaudy butterflies. 

In the centre of the garden grew one tree more beau- 
tiful than all the rest : the ste?7i was of silver, the leaves 
were golden , and the fruit was clusters of f earls. 
Swinging amid the branches sat a young girl, more 
fair than any earthly lady ; she had a face like the 
angels which men only see in dreams ; her eyes were 
like two stars, her golden hair fell in ripples to her 
feet ; she was singing to herself. When she saw the 
stranger, she gave a little cry, and said, u Ah, my 
lord, why do you come here?” Seventee Bai an- 
swered, “May I not come to see you, beautiful lady?” 
Then the lady said, “ Oh, sir, you are welcome ; but 
if my father sees you here, he will kill you. Iam the 
great Cobra’s daughter, and he made this garden for 
me to play in, and here I have played these many, 
many years all alone, for he lets me see no one, not 
even of our own subjects. I never saw any one before 
you. Speak, beautiful Prince — tell me how you came 
here, and who you are?” Seventee Bai answered, “ I 
am Seventee Rajah : have no fear — the stern Cobra is 


Brave Seventee Bai. 


6 5 

no more.” Then the lady was joyful, when she heard 
that the Cobra who had tyrannized over her was dead, 
and she said her name was Hera Bai (the Diamond 
Lady), and that she was possessor of all the treasures 
under the lake ; and she said to Seventee Bai, “ Stay 
with me here ; you shall be king of all this country, 
and I will be your wife.” “ That cannot be,” an- 
swered Seventee Bai, “ for I have been sent on a mis- 
sion by my Rajah, and I must continue my journey 
until I have accomplished it ; but if you love me as I 
love you, come rather with me to my own land, and 
you shall be my wife.” Hera Bai shook her head. 
“ Not so, dearest,” she said, “ for if I go with you, all 
the people will see how fair I am, and they will kill 
you, and sell me for a slave ; and so I shall bring evil 
upon you, and not good. But take this flute, dear 
husband (and saying this, she gave Seventee Bai a little 
golden flute) ; whenever you wish to see me, or are in 
need of my aid, go into the jungle and play upon it, 
and before the sound ceases I will be there ; but do not 
play it in the towns, nor yet amid a crowd.” Then 
Seventee Bai put the flute in the folds of her dress, and 
she bade farewell to Hera Bai and went away. 

When she came back to the Malee’s cottage, the Ma- 
lee’s wife said to her, “We became alarmed about you, 
sir ; for two days we have seen nothing of you ; and we 
thought you must have gone away. Where have you 
been so long?”* Seventee Bai answered, “ I had business 
of my own in the bazaar” (for she did not choose to 
tell the Malee’s wife that she had been under the lake) ; 
u new go and inquire what time your Rajah’s Wuzeer 
can give a stranger audience, for I must see him before 
[ leave this city.” So the Malee’s wife went ; whilst 


66 


Old Deccan Days. 


she was gone, Seventee Bai went down again to the 
edge of the lake, and there reverently burnt the cobra’s 
body, both for the sake of Hera Bai, and because the 
cobra is a sacred animal. Next day (the Malee’s wife 
having brought a favorable answer from the palace) 
Seventee Bai went to see the Wuzeer. Now the 
Wuzeer wondered much why she came to see him, and 
he said, “Who are you, and what is your errand?” 
Whereupon she answered, u I am Seventee Rajah. I 
am going a long journey on my own Rajah’s account, 
and happening to be passing through this city, I came 
to pay you a friendly visit.” Then the Wuzeer became 
quite cordial, and talked with Seventee Bai about the 
country and the city, and the Rajah and his wonderful 
dream. And Seventee Bai said, u What do you sup- 
pose your Rajah would give to any one who could 
show him the tree of which he has so often dreamed ?” 
The Wuzeer replied, “ He would certainly give him 
his daughter in marriage and the half of his kingdom.” 
“ Very well,” said Seventee Bai, “ tell your master that, 
upon these conditions, if he likes to send for me, I will 
show him the tree ; he may look at it for one night, but 
he cannot have it for his own.” 

The Wuzeer took the message to the Rajah, and 
next day the Wuzeer, the Sirdars, and all the great men 
of the court, went in state by the Rajah’s order to the 
Malee’s hut, to say that he was willing to grant. all 
Seventee Rajah’s demands, and would like to see the 
tree that very night. Seventee Bai thereupon promised 
the Wuzeer that if the Rajah would come with his 
court, he should see the reality of his dream. Then 
she went into the jungle and played on her little flute, 
and Hera Bai immediately appeared as she had seen 


Brave Seventee Bat, 6j 

her before, swinging in the silver tree ; and when she 
heard what Seventee Bai wanted, she bade her bring 
the Rajah, who should see it without fail. 

When the Rajah came, he and all his court were 
overcome with astonishment ; for there, in the midst of 
the desolate jungle, was a beautiful palace ; fountains 
played in every court, the rooms were richly decorated 
with thousands and thousands of shining jewels ; a 
light as clear as day filled all the place, soft music was 
played around by unseen hands, sweet odors filled the 
air, and in the midst of the palace garden there grew 
a silver tree , with golden leaves and fruit of -pearls. 

The next morning all had disappeared ; but the Ra- 
jah, enchanted with what he had seen, remained true 
to his promise, and agreed to give Seventee Bai the 
half of his kingdom and his daughter in marriage ; for, 
said he to himself, “ A man who can convert the jun- 
gle into a paradise in one night must surely be rich 
enough and clever enough to be my son-in-law.” But 
Seventee Bai said, “ I am now employed on an errand 
of my Rajah’s ; let me, I beg, first accomplish it, and 
on my homeward journey I will remain a while in this 
town, and will marry the Princess.” So they gave him 
leave to go, and the Rajah and all the great men of his 
kingdom accompanied Seventee Bai to the borders of 
their land. Thence the Wuzeer’s daughter went on 
journeying many days until she had left that country 
far behind ; but as yet she had gained no clue as to the' 
way to the Rakshas’ land. In this difficulty she be- 
thought her of Hera Bai, and played upon the little 
golden flute. Hera Bai immediately appeared, saying, 
“ Plusband, what can I do for you?” Seventee Bai 
answered, “ Kind Hera, I have now been wandering 


68 


Old Deccan Days . 


in this jungle for many days, endeavoring in vain to 
discover the Rakshas’ country, whither my Rajah has 
ordered me to go. Can you help me to get there?” 
She answered, “You cannot go there by yourself.- 
For a six months’ journey round their land there is 
placed a Rakshas’ guard, and not a sparrow could find 
his way into the country without their knowledge and 
permission. No men are admitted there, and there are 
more Rakshas employed in keeping guard than there 
are trees on the face of the earth. They are invisible, 
but they would see you, and instantly tear you to pieces. 
Be, however, guided by me, and I will contrive a way 
by which you may gain what you seek. Take this 
ring (and so saying, she placed a glorious ring on Se- 
ventee Bai’s finger) ; it was given me by my dearest 
friend, the Rajah of the Rakshas’ daughter, and will 
render you invisible. Look at that mountain, whose 
blue head you can just see against the sky ; you must 
climb to the top of that, for it stands on the borders of 
the Rakshas’ territory. When there, turn the stone on 
the ring I have given you toward the palm of your 
hand, and you will instantly fall through the earth into 
the space below the mountain where the Rakshas’ 
Rajah holds his court, and find yourself in his 
daughter’s presence. Tell her you are my husband ; 
she will love and help you for my sake.” Hera Bai so 
saying disappeared, and Seventee Bai continued her 
journey until she reached the mountain top, where she 
turned the ring round as she had been bidden, and im- 
mediately found herself falling through the earth, down, 
down, down, deeper and deeper, until at last she arrived 
in a beautiful room, richly furnished, and hung round 
with cloth of gold. In every direction, as far as the eye 


Brave Seventee Bat . 


69 


could reach, were thousands and thousands of Rakshas, 
and in the centre of the room was a gold and ivory 
throne, on which sat the most beautiful Princess that 
it is possible to imagine. She was tall and of a com- 
manding aspect ; her black hair was bound by long 
strings of pearl ; her dress was of fine spun gold, and 
round her waist was clasped a zone of restless, throb- 
bing, light-giving diamonds ; her neck and her arms 
were covered with a profusion of costly jewels ; but 
brighter than all shone her bright eyes, which looked 
full of gentle majesty. She could see Seventee Bai, 
although her attendants could not, because of the magic 
ring ; and as soon as she saw her she started and cried, 
“Who are you? How came you here? ,, Seventee 
Bai answered, “ I am Seventee Rajah, the husband of 
the Lady Hera, and I have come here by the power of 
the magic ring you gave her.” The Rakshas’ Princess 
then said, “You are welcome : but you must know that 
your coming is attended with much danger ; for, did 
the guard placed around me by my father know of your 
presence, they would instantly put you to death, and I 
should be powerless to save you. Tell me why did 
you come?” Seventee Bai answered, “I came to see 
you, beautiful lady ; tell me your name, and how it is 
you are here all alone.” She replied, “ I am the Rak- 
shas’ Rajah’s only daughter, and my name is Tara Bai 
(the Star Lady), and because my father loves me very 
much he has built this palace for me, and placed this 
great guard of Rakshas all round for many thousand 
miles, to prevent any one coming in or out without his 
permission. 

“ So* great is the state they keep that I seldom see 
my father and mother ; indeed, I have not seen them 


7 ° 


Old Deccan Days. 


for several years. Nevertheless, I will go now in per- 
son to implore their protection for you ; for though I 
never saw king nor prince before, I love you very 
much.” 

So saying, she arose to go to her father’s court, bid- 
ding Seventee Bai await her return. 

When the Rajah and Ranee of the Rakshas heard 
that their daughter was coming to see them, they were 
very much surprised, and said, “ What can be the mat- 
ter with our daughter? Can she be ill? or can our 
Tara Bai be unhappy in the beautiful house we have 
given her?” And they said to her, “ Daughter, why do 
you come? what is the matter?” She answered, “ Oh, 
my father ! I come to tell you I should like to be mar- 
ried. Cannot you find some beautiful Prince to be my 
husband?” Then the Rajah laughed, and said, “ You 
a/e but a child still, my daughter ; nevertheless, if you 
wish for a husband, certainly, if any Prince comes 
here, and asks you in marriage, we will let you wed 
him.” She said, “If some brave and beautiful Prince 
were to come here, and get through the great guard 
you have placed around the palace, would you indeed 
protect him for my sake, and not allow them to tear 
him in pieces?” The Rajah answered, “If such a 
one come, he shall be safe.” Then Tara Bai was very 
joyful, and ran and fetched Seventee Bai, and said to 
her father and mother, “ See here is Seventee Rajah, 
the young Prince of whom I spoke.” And when the 
Rajah and Ranee saw Seventee Bai they were greatly 
astonished, and could not think how she had managed 
to reach their land, and they thought she must be very 
brave and wise to have done so. And because also 
Seventee Bai looked a very noble Prince, they were 


Brave Seventee Bat. 


7 1 


the more willing that she should marry Tara Bai, and 
said, “ Seventee Rajah, we are willing you should be 
our son-in-law, for you look good and true, and you 
must be brave, to have come so long and dangerous a 
journey for your wife ; now, therefore, you shall be 
married ; the whole land is open to you, and all that we 
have is yours ; only take good care of our dear daughter, 
and if ever she or you are unhappy, return here and 
you shall find a home with us.” So the wedding took 
place amidst great rejoicings. The wedding festivities 
lasted twelve days, and to it came hundreds and hun- 
dreds of thousands of Rakshas from every country 
under heaven ; from the north and the south and the 
east and the west, from the depths of the earth and the 
uttermost parts of the sea. Troop after troop they came 
flocking in, an ever-increasing crowd, from all parts of 
this wide world, to be present at the marriage of their 
master’s daughter. 

It would be impossible to count all the rich and 
costly presents that the Rakshas’ Rajah and Ranee 
gave Tara Bai. There were jewels enough to fill the 
seas ; diamonds and emeralds, rubies, sapphires and 
pearls ; gold and silver, costly hangings, carved ebony 
and ivory, more than a man could count in a hundred 
years ; for the Rajah gave his daughter a guard of 
100,000,000,000,000 Rakshas, and each Rakshas car- 
ried a bundle of riches, and each bundle was as big as 
a house ! and so they took leave of the Rakshas’ Rajah 
and Ranee, and left the Rakshas’ country. 

When they got to the country of the Rajah who had 
dreamed about the silver tree, with leaves of gold and 
fruit of pearl (because the number of their retinue was 
so great that if they had come into a country they 


72 


Old Deccan Days . 


would have devoured all that was in it like a swarm of 
locusts), Seventee Bai and Tara Bai determined that 
Tara Bai should stay with the guard of Rakshas in the 
jungle, on the borders of the Rajah’s dominions, and 
that Seventee Bai should go to the city, as she had prom- 
ised, to marry the Rajah’s daughter. And there they 
stayed a week, and the Rajah’s daughter was married 
with great pomp and ceremony to Seventee Bai ; and 
when they left the city the Rajah gave Seventee Bai 
and the bride, his daughter, horses and camels and ele- 
phants, and rich robes and jewels innumerable ; and he 
and all his court accompanied them to the borders of 
the land. 

Thence they went to the country where lived the 
Princess whose great marble bath Seventee Bai had 
jumped over ; and there Seventee Bai was married to 
her, amid great rejoicings, and the wedding was one of 
surpassing splendor, and the wedding festivities lasted 
for three whole days. 

And leaving that city, they traveled on until they 
reached the city where Seventee Bai had tamed the 
Rajah’s wild pony, and there they spent two days in 
great honor and splendor, and Seventee Bai married 
that Princess also ; so with her five wives — that is to 
say, Hera Bai the Rajah of the Cobras’ daughter, Tara 
Bai the Rajah of the Rakshas’ daughter, and the three 
other Princesses — and a great tribe of attendants and 
elephants and camels and horses, she returned to the 
city where she had left Parbuttee Bai. 

Now when news was brought to Seventee Bai’s mas- 
ter (the friendly Rajah), of the great cavalcade that 
was approaching his city, he became very much alarm- 
ed, taking Seventee Bai for some strange Rajah who 


Brave Seventee Bai. 


73 


had come to make war upon him. When Seventee 
Bai heard how alarmed he was, she sent a messenger 
to him, on a swift horse, to say, “ Be not alarmed ; it is 
only thy servant, Seventee Rajah, returning from the 
errand on which thou didst send him.” Then the 
Rajah’s heart was light, and he ordered a royal salute 
to be fired, and went out with all his court to meet 
Seventee Bai, and they all went together in a state 
procession into the city. And Seventee Bai said to 
the Rajah, “You sent your servant to the Rakshas’ 
country to fetch a golden saree for the Ranee. Behold, 
I have done as you wish.” And so saying, she gave 'to 
the Rajah five Rakshas’ bundles of rich hangings and 
garments covered with jewels (that is to say, five 
housefuls of costly things ; for each Rakshas carried as 
much in the bundle on his shoulders as a house would 
hold) ; and to the Wuzeer she gave two bundles. 

After this, Seventee Bai discharged almost all her 
immense train of attendants (for fear they should 
create a famine in the land), sending them to their own 
houses with many valuable presents ; and she took the 
three Princesses, her wives, to live with her and Par- 
buttee Bai ; but Hera Bai and Tara Bai, on account 
of their high rank and their surpassing beauty, had a 
splendid palace of their own in the jungle, of which no 
one knew but Seventee Bai. 

Now when she again saw Seventee Bai, the Rajah’s 
little daughter said to her father, “Father, I do not 
think there is such a brave and beautiful Prince in all 
the world as this Seventee Rajah. I would rather have 
him for my husband than any one else.” And the 
Rajah said, “ Daughter, I am very willing you should 
marry him.” So it was settled Seventee Bai should 
7 D 


74 


Old Deccan Days . 


marry the little Princess ; but she said to the Rajah, 
“1 am willing to marry your daughter, but we must 
have a very grand wedding ; give me time, therefore, 
to send into all the countries round, and invite all their 
Rajahs to be present at the ceremony.” And to this 
the Rajah agreed. 

Now, about this time, Seventee Bai one day found 
Parbuttee Bai crying, and said to her, “ Little sister, 
why are you unhappy?” And Parbuttee Bai an- 
swered, u Oh sister, you have brought us out of all our 
difficulties, and won us honor and great riches, but yet 
I do not feel merry ; for I cannot help thinking of our 
poor husband, who is now, maybe, wandering about a 
wretched beggar, and I long with my whole heart to 
see him again.” Then Seventee Bai said, “Well, 
cheer up, do not cry ; mind those women do not find 
out I am not Seventee Rajah. Keep a good heart, and 
I will try and find your husband for you.” So Seven- 
tee Bai went into the jungle palace to see Hera Bai, 
and said to her, “ I have a friend whom I have not 
seen since he became mad twelve years ago, and ran 
away into the jungle disguised as a Fakeer. I should 
like very much to find out if he is still alive. How can 
I learn ?” Now Hera Bai was a very wise Princess, 
and she answered, “ Your best plan will be to provide 
a great feast for the poor, and cause it to be proclaimed 
in all lands, far and near, that you are about to give it 
as a thank-offering for all the blessings God has be- 
stowed on you. The poor will flock from all countries 
to come to it, and perhaps among the rest you may 
find your friend.” 

Seventee Bai did as Hera Bai had advised, causing 

7 O 

two long tables to be spread in the jungle, whereat 


Brave Seventee Bat. 


75 


hundreds of poor from all parts of the world were daily 
entertained ; and every day, for six months, Seventee 
Bai and Parbuttee Bai walked down the long rows of 
people, apparently to see how they were all getting on. 
but in reality to look for Logedas Rajah ; but they 
found him not. 

At last one day, as Seveiijtee Bai was going her ac- 
customed round, she saw a wretched wild-looking man, 
black as pitch, with tangled hair, a thin wrinkled face, 
and in his hand a wooden bowl, such as Fakeers carry 
about to collect broken meat and scraps of bread in, 
and touching Parbuttee Bai, she said to her, “ See, 
Parbuttee, there is your husband.” When Parbuttee 
Bai saw this pitiful sight (for it was, indeed, Logedas, 
but so changed and altered that even his wives hardly 
recognized him), she began to cry. Then Seventee 
Bai said, “ Do not cry ; go home quickly. I will take 
care of him.” And when Parbuttee Bai was gone, she 
called one of the guard and said to him, “ Catch hold 
of that man and put him in prison.” Then Logedas 
Rajah said, “Why do you seize me? I have done no 
harm to any one.” But Seventee Bai ordered the 
guard not to heed his remonstrances, but to take him 
to prison instantly, for she did not wish the people 
around to discover how interested she was in him. So 
the guard took Logedas Rajah away to lock him up. 
Poor Logedas Rajah said to them, “Why has this 
wicked Rajah had me taken prisoner ? I have harmed 
no one. I have not fought, nor robbed ; but for twelve 
years I have been a wretched beggar, living on the 
bread of charity.” For he did not tell them he was a 
Rajah’s son, for he knew they would only laugh at 
him. They replied, “You must not call our Rajah 


7 6 


Old Deccan Days. 


wicked ; it is you that are wicked, and not he, and 
doubtless he will have your head cut off.” 

When they put him in prison he begged them again 
to say w'hat was to be done to him. “ Oh !” said they, 
u you will certainly be hanged to-morrow morning, or 
perhaps, if you like it better, beheaded, in front of the 
palace.” 

Now as soon as Seventee Bai got home, she sent for 
her head servants, and said to them, “ Go at once to 
the prison, and order the guard to give you up the 
Fakeer I gave into their charge, and bring him here in 
a palanquin, but see that he does not escape.” Then 
Seventee Bai ordered them to lock up Logedas in a 
distant part of the palace, and commanded that he 
should be washed, and dressed in new clothes, and 
given food, and that a barber should be sent for, to cut 
his hair and trim his beard. Then Logedas said to his 
keepers, “ See how good the Rajah is to me ! He will 
not surely hang me after this.” “ Oh, never fear,” 
they answered ; “ when you are dressed up and made 
very smart, it will be a much finer sight to see you 
hanged than before.” Thus they tried to frighten the 
poor man. After this Seventee Bai sent for all the 
greatest doctors in the kingdom, and said to them, “ If 
a Rajah wanders about for twelve years in the jungle, 
until all trace of his princely beauty is lost, how long 
will it take you to restore him to his original likeness ?” 
They answered, “ With care and attention it may be 
done in six months.” “ Very well,” said Seventh Bai, 
“ there is a friend of mine now in my palace of whom 
this is the case. Take him and treat him well, and at 
the end of six months I shall expect to him re- 
stored to his original health and strength.” 


Brave Seventee Bat. 


77 


So Logedas was placed under the doctors’ care ; but 
all this time he had no idea who Seventee Bai was, nor 
why he was thus treated. Every day Seventee Bai 
came to see him and talk to him. Then he said to his 
keepers, “ See, good people, how kind this great Rajah 
is, coming to see me every day ; he can intend for me 
nothing but good.” To which they would answer, 
“ Don’t you be in a hurry ; none can fathom the hearts 
of kings. Most probably, for all this delay, he will in 
the end have you taken and hanged.” Thus they 
amused themselves by alarming him. 

Then, some day, when Seventee Bai had been more 
than usually kind, Logedas Rajah would say again, “ I 
do not fear the Rajah’s intentions toward me. Did 
you not notice how very kind he was to day !” And to 
this his keepers would reply — 

“ Doubtless it is amusing for him, but hardly, we 
should think, for you. He will play with you proba- 
bly for some time (as a cat does with a mouse) ; but in 
three months is the Rajah’s birthday ; most likely he is 
keeping you to kill you then.” And so the time wore 
on. 

Seventee Bai’s birthday was fixed for the day also of 
her wedding with the Rajah’s daughter. For this great 
event immense preparations were made all over the 
plain outside the city walls. Tents made of cloth of 
gold were pitched in a great square, twelve miles long 
and twelve miles broad, for the accommodation of the 
neighboring Rajahs, and in the centre was a larger 
tent than all the rest, covered with jewels and shining 
like a great golden temple, in which they were to as- 
semble. 

Then Seventee Bai said to Parbuttee Bai, “ On my 


7 8 


Old Deccan Days . 


birthday I will restore you to your husband.” But Par- 
buttee Bai was vexed and said, “ I cannot bear the 
thought of him ; it is such a terrible thing to think of 
our once handsome husband as none other than that 
miserable Fakeer.” 

Seventee Bai smiled. u In truth,” she said, “ I think 
you will find him again altered, and for the better. 
You cannot think w r hat a change rest and care have 
made in him ; but he does not know who we are, and 
as you value my happiness, tell no one now that I am 
not the Rajah.” “ Indeed I will not, dearest sister,” 
answered Parbuttee Bai. “ I should in truth be loath 
to vex you, after all you have done for me ; for owing 
to you here have we lived happily for twelve years like 
sisters, and I do not think as clever a woman as you 
was ever before born in this world.” 

Among other guests invited to the wedding were Siu 
Rajah and his wife, and the Wuzeer, Seventee Bai’s 
father, and her mother. Seventee Bai arranged thrones 
for them all, made of gold and emeralds, and dia- 
monds, and rubies, and ivory. And she ordered that 
in the seat of honor on her left-hand side should be 
placed the Wuzeer, her father, and next to him her 
mother, and next to them Siu Rajah and his wife, 
and after them all the other Rajahs and Ranees, accord- 
ing to their rank ; and all the Rajahs and Ranees won- 
dered much that the place of honor should have been 
given to the stranger Wuzeer. Then Seventee Bai 
took her most costly Rajah dress, and ordered that Lo- 
gedas Rajah should be clothed in it, and escorted to the 
tent ; and she took off the man’s clothes which she had 
worn, and dressed herself in a saree. When she was 
dressed in it she looked a more lovely woman than she 


Brave Seventee Bai. 


79 


had before looked a handsome man. And she went to 
the tent leading Parbuttee Bai, while with her came 
Hera Bai and Tara Bai of more than mortal beauty, 
and the three other Princesses clothed in the most costly 
robes. Then before all the Rajahs and Ranees, Seven- 
tee Bai knelt down at Logedas Rajah’s feet, and said to 
him, u I am your true wife. O husband, have you for- 
gotten her whom you left in the jungle with Parbuttee 
Bai twelve years ago ? See here she also is ; and be- 
hold these rich jewels, these tents of gold, these hang- 
ings of priceless worth, these elephants, camels, horses, 
attendants and all this wealth. It is all yours, as I am 
yours ; for I have collected all for you.” 

Then Logedas Rajah wept for joy, and Siu Rajah 
arose and kissed Seventee Bai, and said to her, “ My 
noble daughter, you have rescued my son from misery, 
and done more wisely and well than woman ever did 
before. May all honor and blessing attend you hence- 
forth and for ever.” 

And the assembled Rajahs and Ranees were sur- 
prised beyond measure, saying, u Did any one ever 
hear of a woman doing so much ?” But more than any 
was the good Rajah astonished, whom Seventee Bai had 
served so well for twelve years, and whose daughter 
she was to have married that day, when he learnt that 
she was a woman ! It was then agreed by all that 
Logedas Rajah should on that day be newly married to 
his two wives, Parbuttee Bai and Seventee Bai ; and 
should also marry the six other beautiful Princesses — 
the Princess Hera Bai, the Princess Tara Bai, the Ra- 
jah’s little daughter, and the three other Princesses ; and 
that he should return with his father to his own king- 
dom. And the weddings took place amid great spier. 


So 


Old Deccan Days. 


dor and rejoicings unheard of ; and of all the fine things 
that were seen and done on that day it is impossible to 
tell. And afterward Logedas Rajah and his eight 
wives, and his father and mother, and the Wuzeer and 
his wife, and all their attendants, returned to their own 
land, where they all lived very happily ever after. 
And so may all who read this story live happily too. 






IV. 


TRUTH'S TRIUMPH. 

EVERAL hundred years ago there was a certain 



Rajah who had twelve wives, but no children, 
and though he caused many prayers to be said, and 
presents made in temples far and near, never a son nor 
a daughter had he. Now this Rajah had a Wuzeer 
who was a very, very wise old man, and it came to 
pass that one day, when he was traveling in a distant 
part of his kingdom, accompanied by this Wuzeer and 
the rest of his court, he came upon a large garden, in 
walking round which he was particularly struck by a 
little tree which grew there. It was a bringal * tree, 
not above two feet in height. It had no leaves, but on 
it grew a hundred and one bringals. The Rajah 
stopped to count them, and then turning to the Wuzeer 
in great astonishment, said, “ It is to me a most unac- 
countable thing, that this little tree should have no 
leaves, but a hundred and one bringals growing on it. 
You are a wise man — can you guess what this means?” 
The Wuzeer replied, “ I can interpret this marvel to 
you, but if I do, you will most likely not believe me 
promise therefore that if I tell you, you will not cause 
me to be killed as having told (as you imagine) a lie.” 

* Solatium molengena — the egg-shaped fruit of which is 9 
favorite vegetable all over India. 


82 


Old Deccan Days . 


The Rajah promised, and the Wuzeer continued : 
u The meaning of this little bringal tree, with the hun- 
dred and one bringals growing on it, is this. Whoever 
marries the daughter of the Malee in charge of this 
garden will have a hundred and one chidren — a hun- 
dred sons and one daughter.” The Rajah said, 
“Where is the maiden to be seen?” The Wuzeer an- 
swered, “When a number of great people like you 
and all your court come into a little village like this, 
the poor people, and especially the children, are fright- 
ened and run away and hide themselves ; therefore, as 
long as you stay here as Rajah you cannot hope to see 
her. Your only means will be to send away your 
suite, and cause it be announced that you have left the 
place. Then, if you walk daily in this garden, you 
may some morning meet the pretty Guzra Bai,* of 
whom I speak.” 

Upon this advice the Rajah acted ; and one day 
whilst walking in the garden he saw the Malee’s young 
daughter, a girl of twelve years old, busy gathering 
flowers. He went forward to accost her, but she, see- 
ing that he was not one of the villagers, but a stranger, 
was shy, and ran home to her father’s house. 

The Rajah followed, for he was very much struck 
with her grace and beauty ; in fact, he fell in love with 
her as soon as he saw her, and thought he had never 
seen a king’s daughter half so charming. 

When he got to the Malee’s house the door was shut ; 
so he called out, “ Let me in, good Malee ; I am the 
Rajah, and I wish to marry your daughter.” The 
Malee only laughed, and answered, “ A pretty tale to 
tell a simple man, indeed ! You a Rajah ! why the 
* Flower Girl. 


Truth's Triumph . 


83 


Rajah is miles away. You had better go home, my 
good fellow, for there’s no welcome for you here !’ 
But the Rajah continued calling till the Malee opened 
the door ; who then was indeed surprised, seeing it was 
truly no other than the Rajah, and he asked what he 
could do for him. 

The Rajah said, “ I wish to marry your beautiful 
daughter, Guzra Bai.” “ No, no,” said the Malee, 
“ this joke wont do. None of your Princes in disguise 
for me. You may think you are a great Rajah and I 
only a poor Malee, but I tell you that makes no differ- 
ence at all to me. Though you were king of all the 
earth, I would not permit you to come here and amuse 
yourself chattering to my girl, only to fill her head with 
nonsense, and to break her heart.” 

“ In truth, good man, you do me wrong,” answered 
the Rajah, humbly : “ I mean what I say ; I wish to 
marry your daughter.” 

“ Do not think,” retorted tlie Malee, “ that I’ll make 
a fool of myself because I’m only a Malee, and believe 
what you’ve got to say, because you’re a great Rajah. 
Rajah or no Rajah is all one to me. If you mean 
what you say, if you care for my daughter and wish to 
be married to her, come and be married ; but I’ll have 
none of your new-fangled forms and court ceremonies 
hard to be understood ; let the girl be married by her 
father’s hearth and under her father’s roof, and let us 
invite to the wedding our old friends and acquaintance 
whom we’ve known all our lives, and before we ever 
thought of you.” 

The Rajah was not angry, but amused, and rather 
oleased than otherwise at the old man’s frankness, and 
he consented to all that was desired. 


8 4 


Old Deccan Days. 


The village beauty, Guzra Bai, was therefore mar- 
ried with as much pomp as they could muster, but in 
village fashion, to the great Rajah, who took her home 
with him, followed by the tears and blessings of her 
parents and playmates. 

The twelve kings’ daughters were by no means 
pleased at this addition to the number of the Ranees ; 
and they agreed amongst themselves that it would be 
highly derogatory to their dignity to permit Guzra Bai 
to associate with them, and that the Rajah, their hus- 
band, had offered them an unpardonable insult in 
marrying a Malee’s daughter, which was to be re- 
venged upon her the very first opportunity. 

Having made this league, they tormented poor 
Guzra Bai so much that to save her from their perse- 
cutions, the Rajah built her a little house of her 
own, where she lived very, very happily for a short 
time. 

At last one day he had occasion to go and visit a 
distant part of his dominions, but fearing his high-born 
wives might ill-use Guzra Bai in his absence, at part- 
ing he gave her a little golden bell,* saying, “ If while 
I am away you are in any trouble, or any one should 
be unkind to you, ring this little bell, and wherever I 
am I shall instantly hear it, and will return to your 
aid.” 

No sooner had the Rajah gone, than Guzra Bai 
thought she would try the power of the bell. So she 
rang it. The Rajah instantly appeared. “What do 
you want?” he said. u Oh, nothing,” she replied. “ I 
was foolish. I could hardly believe what you told me 

* “ It must have been a kind of telegraph to go so quick.’* 
my Narrator said. 


Truth's Triumph, 85 

could be true, and thought I would try.” “ Now you 
will believe, I hope,” he said, and went away. A 
second time she rang the bell. Again the Rajah re- 
turned. “ Oh, pardon me, husband,” she said ; “ it 
was wrong of me not to trust you, but I hardly thought 
you could return again from so far.” “ Never mind,” 
he said, “only do not try the experiment again.” And 
again he went away. A third time she rang the golden 
bell. “Why do you ring again, Guzra Bai?” asked 
the Rajah sternly, as for a third time he returned. “I 
don’t know, indeed ; indeed I beg your pardon,” she 
said ; “ but I know not why, I felt so frightened.” 
“Have any of the Ranees been unkind to you?” he 
asked. “ No, none,” she answered; “in fact, I have 
seen none of them.” “You are a silly child,” said he, 
stroking her hair. “ Affairs of the state call me away. 
You must try and keep a good heart till my return ;” 
and for the fourth time he disappeared. 

A little while after this, wonderful to relate, Guzra 
Bai had a hundred and one children ! — a hundred boys 
and one girl. When the Ranees heard this, they said 
to each other, “ Guzra Bai, the Malee’s daughter, will 
rank higher than us ; she will have great power and in- 
fluence as mother to the heir to the Raj ;* let us kill 
these children, and tell our husband that she is a sor- 
ceress ; then will he love her no longer, and his old 
affection for us will return.” So these twelve wicked 
Ranees all went over to Guzra Bai’s house. When 
Guzra Bai saw them coming, she feared they meant to 
do her some harm, so she seized her little golden bell, 
and rang, and rang, and rang — but no Rajah came. 
She had called him back so often that he did not be- 
* Kingdom. 


8 


86 


Old Deccan Days . 


lieve she really needed his help. And thus the poor 
woman was left to the mercy of her implacable ene- 
mies. 

Now the nurse who had charge of the hundred and 
one babies was an old servant of the twelve Ranees, 
and moreover a very wicked woman, able and willing 
to do whatever her twelve wicked old mistresses or- 
dered. So when they said to her, “ Can you kill these 
children?” she answered, “ Nothing is easier; I will 
throw them out upon the dust-heap behind the palace, 
vhere the rats and hawks and vultures will have left 
non^ of them remaining by to-morrow morning. u So 
be it,” said the Ranees. Then the nurse took the hun- 
dred and one little innocent children — the hundred little 
boys and the one little girl — and threw them behind 
die palace on the dust-heap, close to some large rat- 
holes ; and after that, she and the twelve Ranees placed 
a very large stone in each of the babies’ cradles, and 
said to Guzra Bai, “ Oh, you evil witch in disguise, do 
not hope any longer to impose by your arts on the Ra- 
jah’s credulity. See, your children have all turned into 
stones. See these, your pretty babies !” — and with that 
they tumbled the hundred and one stones down in a 
great heap on the floor. Then Guzra Bai began to 
cry, for she knew it was not true ; but what could one 
poor woman do against thirteen ? At the Rajah’s re- 
turn the twelve Ranees accused Guzra Bai of being a 
witch, and the nurse testified that the hundred and one 
children she had charge of had turned into stones, and 
the Rajah believed them rather than Guzra Bai, and 
he ordered her to be imprisoned for life. 

Meanwhile a Bandicote* had heard the pitiful cries 
* A species of large rat. 


Truth's Triumph . 


87 


of the children, and taking pity on them, dragged them 
all, one by one, into her hole, out of the way of kites 
and vultures. She then assembled all the Bandicotes 
from far and near, and told them what she had done, 
begging them to assist in finding food for the children. 
Then every day a hundred and one Bandicotes would 
come, each bringing a little bit of food in his mouth, 
and give it to one of the children ; and so day by day 
they grew stronger and stronger, until they were able 
to run about, and then they used to play of a morning 
at the mouth of the Bandicote’s hole, running in there 
to sleep every night. But one fine day who should 
come by but the wicked old nurse ! Fortunately, all 
the boys were in the hole, and the little girl, who was 
playing outside, on seeing her ran in there too, but not 
before the nurse had seen her. She immediately went 
to the twelve Ranees and related this, saying, u I can- 
not help thinking some of the children may still be liv- 
ing in those rat-holes. You had better send and have 
them dug out and killed. ” “We dare not do that,” 
answered they, “ for fear of causing suspicion ; but we 
will order some laborers to dig up that ground and 
make it into a field, and that will effectually smother 
any of the children who may still be alive.” This 
plan was approved and forthwith carried into execu- 
tion ; but the good Bandicote, who happened that day 
to be out on a foraging expedition in the palace, heard 
all about it there, and immediately running home, took 
all the children from her hole to a large well some dis- 
tance off, where she hid them in the hollows behind 
the steps leading down to the well, laying one child 
under each step. 

Here they would have been quite safe, bad not the 


88 


Old Deccan Days. 


Dhobee* happened to go down to the well that day to 
wash some clothes, taking with him his little girl. 
While her father was drawing up water, the child 
amused herself running up and down the steps of the 
well. Now each time her weight pressed down a step 
it gave the child hidden underneath a little squeeze. 
All the hundred boys bore this without uttering a 
sound ; but when the Dhobee’s child trod on the step 
under which the little girl was hidden, she cried out, 
“ How can you be so cruel to me, trampling on me in 
this way? Have pity on me, for I am a little girl as 
well as you.” 

When the child heard these words proceeding from 
the stone, she ran in great alarm to her father, saying, 
“ Father, I don’t know what’s the matter, but something 
alive is certainly under those stones. I heard it speak ; 
but whether it is a Rakshas or an angel or a human 
being I cannot tell.” Then the Dhobee went to the 
twelve Ranees to tell them the wonderful news about 
the voice in the well ; and they said to each other, 
“ Maybe it’s some of Guzra Bai’s children ; let us send 
and have this inquired into.” So they sent some peo- 
ple to pull down the well and see if some evil spirits 
were not there. 

Then laborers went to pull down the well. Now 
close to the well was a little temple dedicated to Gun- 
putti, containing a small shrine and a little clay image 
of the god. When the children felt the well being 
pulled down they called out for help and protection to 
Gunputti, who took pity on them and changed them 
into trees growing by his temple — a hundred little 
mango trees all round in a circle (which were the hun* 
* Washerman. 


Truth's Triumph. 89 

dred little boys), and a little rose bush in the middle, 
covered with red and white roses, which was the little 
girl. 

The laborers pulled down the well, but they found 
nothing there but a poor old Bandicote, which they 
killed. Then, by order of the twelve wicked Ranees, 
the sacrilegiously destroyed the little temple. But they 
found no children there either. However, the Dhobee’s 
mischievous little daughter had gone with her father to 
witness the work of destruction, and as they were look- 
ing on, she said, “ Father, do look at all those funny 
little trees ; I never remember noticing them here be- 
fore.” And being very inquisitive, she started off to 
have a nearer look at them. There in a circle grew 
the hundred little mango trees, and in the centre of all 
the little rose bush, bearing the red and white roses. 

The girl rushed by the mango trees, who uttered no 
words, and running up to the rose bush, began gather- 
ing some of the flowers. At this the rose bush trem- 
bled very much, and sighed and said, “ I am a little 
girl as well as you; how can you be so cruel? You 
are breaking all my ribs.” Then the child ran back to 
her father and said, “ Come and listen to what the 
rose bush says.” And the father repeated the news to 
the twelve Ranees, who ordered that a great fire should 
be made, and the hundred and one little trees be burnt 
in it, root and branch, till not a stick remained. 

The fire was made, and the hundred and one little 
trees were dug up and just going to be put into it, 
when Gunputti, taking pity on them, caused a tremen- 
dous storm to come on, which put out the fire and 
flooded the country and swept the hundred and one 
trees into the river, where they were carried down a 


9 ° 


Old Deccan Days . 


Jong, long way by the torrent, until at last the children 
were landed, restored to their own shapes, on the river 
bank, in the midst of a wild jungle, very far from any 
human habitation. 

Here these children lived for ten years, happy in 
their mutual love and affection. Generally every day 
fifty of the boys would go out to collect roots and ber- 
ries for their food, leaving fifty at home to take care of 
their little sister : but sometimes they put her in some 
safe place, and all would go out together for the day ; 
nor were they ever molested in their excursions by 
bear, panther, snake, scorpion,' or other noxious crea- 
ture. One day all the brothers put their little sister 
safely up in a fine shady tree, and went out together to 
hunt. After rambling on for some time, they came to 
the hut of a savage Rakshas, who in the disguise of an 
old woman had lived for many years in the jungle. 
The Rakshas, angry at this invasion of her domain, no 
sooner saw them than she changed them all into crows. 
Night came on, and their little sister was anxiously 
awaiting her brothers’ return, when on a sudden she 
heard a loud whirring sound in the air, and round the 
tree flocked a hundred black crows, cawing and offer- 
ing her berries and roots which they had dug up with 
their sharp bills. Then the little sister guessed too 
truly what must have happened — that some malignant 
spirit had metamorphosed her brothers into this hideous 
shape ; and at the sad sight she began to cry. 

Time wore on ; every morning the crows flew away 
to collect food for her and for themselves, and every 
evening they returned to roost in the branches of the 
high tree where she sat the livelong day, crying as if 
her heart would break. 


Truth's Triumph. 


9 1 


At last so many bitter tears had she shed that they 
made a little stream which flowed from the foot of the 
tree right down through the jungle. 

Some months after this, one fine day, a young Rajah 
from a neighboring country happened to be hunting 
in this very jungle ; but he had not been very success- 
ful. Toward the close of the day he found himself 
faint and weary, having missed his way and lost his 
comrades, with no companion save his dogs, who, 
being thirsty, ran hurriedly hither and thither in search 
of water. After some time, they saw in the distance 
what looked like a clear stream : the dogs rushed there 
and the tired prince, following them, flung himself 
down on the grass by the water’s brink, thinking to sleep 
there for the night ; and, with his hands under his 
head, stared up into the leafy branches of the tree above 
him. Great was his astonishment to see high up in 
the air an immense number of crows, and above them all 
a most lovely young girl, who was feeding them with 
berries and wild fruits. Quick as thought, he climbed 
the tree, and bringing her carefully and gently down, 
seated her on the grass beside him, saying, “ Tell me, 
pretty lady, who you are, and how you come to be liv- 
ing in this dreary palace ?” So she told him all her 
adventures, except that she did not say the hundred 
crows were her hundred brothers. Then the Rajah 
said, “ Do not cry any more, fair Princess ; you shall 
come home with me and be my Ranee, and my father 
and mother shall be yours.” At this she smiled and 
dried her eyes, but quickly added, “ You will let me 
take these crows with me, will you not? for I love 
them dearly, and I cannot go away unless they may 
come too.” “To be sure,” he answered. “You may 


92 


Old Deccan Days . 


bring all the animals in the jungle with you, if you like, 
so you will only come.” 

So he took her home to his father’s house, and the 
old Rajah and Ranee wondered much at this jungle 
Lady, when they saw her rare beauty, her modest 
gentle ways and her queenly grace. Then the young 
Rajah told them how she was a persecuted Princess, 
and asked their leave to marry her ; and because her 
loving goodness had won all hearts, they gave their 
consent as joyfully as if she had been daughter of the 
greatest of Rajahs, and brought with her a splendid 
dower ; and they called her Draupadi Bai.* 

Draupadi had some beautiful trees planted in front 
of her palace, in which the crows, her brothers, used 
to live, and she daily with her own hands boiled a 
quantity of rice, which she would scatter for them to 
eat as they flocked around her. Now some time after 
this, Draupadi Bai had a son, who was called Ram- 
chundra. He was a very good boy, and his mother 
Draupadi Bai used to take him to school every morn- 
ing, and go and fetch him home in the evening. But 
one day, when Ramchundra was about fourteen years 
old, it happened that Draupadi Bai did not go to fetch 
him home from school as she was wont ; and on his 
return he found her sitting under the trees in front of 
her palace, stroking the glossy black crows that flocked 
around her, and weeping. 

Then Ramchundra threw down his bundle of books, 
and said to his mother, putting his elbows on her knees, 
and looking up in her face, “Mammy, dear, tell me 

* Doubtless after the beautiful Princess Draupadi, daughter 
of the Rajah of Panchala, and a famous character in the great 
Hindoo epic, the “ Maha Bharata.” 


Truth's Tr nun fh. 


93 


why you are now crying, and what it is that makes you 
so often sad.” “Oh, nothing, nothing,” she answered. 
“Yes, dear mother,” said he, “do tell me. Can I help 
you ? If I can, I will.” Draupadi Bai shook her head. 
“ Alas, no, my son,” she said ; “ you are too young to 
help me ; and as for my grief, I have never told it to 
any one. I cannot tell it to you now.” But Ram- 
chundra continued begging and praying her to tell him, 
until at last she did ; relating to him all her own and 
his uncles’ sad history ; and lastly, how they had been 
changed by a Rakshas into the black crows he saw 
around him. Then the boy sprang up and said, 
“ Which way did your brothers take when they met 
the Rakshas ?” “ How can I tell ?” she asked. “ Why,” 
he answered, “ I thought perhaps you might remem- 
ber on which side they returned that first night to you, 
after being bewitched?” “Oh,” she said, “they came 
toward the tree from that part of the jungle which lies 
in a straight line behind the palace.” “Very well,” 
cried Ramchundra, joyfully, “ I also will go there, 
and find out this wicked old Rakshas, and learn by 
what means they may be disenchanted.” “No, no, my 
son,” she answered, “ I cannot let you go : see, I have 
lost father and mother, and these my hundred brothers ; 
and now, if you fall into the Rakshas’ clutches as well 
as they, and are lost to me, what will life have worth 
living for?” To this he replied, “Do not fear for me, 
mother ; I will be wary and discreet.” And going to 
his father, he said, “Father, it is time I should see 
something of the world. I beg you to permit me to 
travel and see other lands.” The Rajah answered, 
“ You shall go. Tell me what attendants you would 
like to accompany you?” “Give me,” said Ramchun- 


94 


Old Deccan Days . 


dra, “ a horse to ride, and a groom to take care of it.” 
The Rajah consented, and Ramchundra set oft' riding 
toward the jungle ; but as soon as he got there, he sent 
his horse back by the groom with a message to his 
parents, and proceeded alone, on foot. 

After wandering about for some time he came upon 
a small hut, in which lay an ugly old woman fast 
asleep. She had long claws instead of hands, and her 
hair hung down all around her in a thick black tangle. 
Ramchundra knew, by the whole appearance of the 
place, that he must have reached the Rakshas’ abode 
of which he was in search ; so, stealing softly in, he sat 
down and began shampooing her head. At last the 
Rakshas woke up. “You dear little boy,” she said, 
“ do not be afraid ; I am only a poor old woman, and 
will not hurt you. Stay with me, and you shall be my 
servant.” This she said not from any feeling of kind- 
ness or pity for Ramchundra, but merely because she 
thought he might be helpful to her. So the young 
Rajah remained in her service, determining to stay 
there till he should have learnt from her all that he 
wished to know. 

Thus one day he said to her, “ Good mother, what 
is the use of all those little jars of water you have ar- 
ranged round your house ?” She answered, “ That 
water possesses certain magical attributes : if any of it 
is sprinkled on people enchanted by me, they instantly 
resume their former shape.” “ And what,” he con- 
tinued, “is the use of your wand?” “That,” she re- 
plied, “has many supernatural powers: for instance, 
by simply uttering your wish and waving it in the air, 
you can conjure up a mountain, a river or a forest in 
a moment of time.” 


Truth's Triumph, 


95 


Another day Ramchundra said to her, “Your hair, 
good mother, is dreadfully tangled ; pray let me comb 
it.” “ No,” she said, “you must not touch my hair ; it 
would be dangerous ; for every hair has power to set 
the jungle on fire.” “ How is that?” he asked. She 
replied, “The least fragment of my hair thrown in the 
direction of the jungle would instantly set it in a blaze.” 
Having learnt all this, one day when it was very hot, 
and the old Rakshas was drowsy, Ramchundra begged 
leave to shampoo her head, which speedily sent her to 
sleep ; then, gently pulling out two or three of her 
hairs, he got up, and taking in one hand her wand, and 
in the other two jars of the magic water, he stealthily 
left the hut ; but he had not gone far before she woke 
up, and instantly divining what he had done, pursued 
him with great rapidity. Ramchundra, looking back 
and perceiving that she was gaining upon him, waved 
the enchanted wand and created a great river, which 
suddenly rolled its tumultuous waves between them ; 
but, quick as thought, the Rakshas swam the river. 

Then he turned, and waving the wand again, caused 
a high mountain to rise between them ; but the Rak- 
shas climbed the mountain. Nearer she came, and yet 
nearer ; each time he turned to use the wand and put 
obstacles in her way, the delay gave her a few minutes’ 
advantage, so that he lost almost as much as he gained. 
Then, as a last resource, he scattered the hairs he had 
stolen to the winds, and instantly the jungle on the 
hill side, through which the Rakshas was coming, was 
set in a blaze ; the fire rose higher and higher, the 
wicked old Rakshas was consumed by the flames, and 
Ramchundra pursued his journey in safety until he 
reached his father’s palace. Draupadi Bai was over* 


Old Deccan Days . 


96 

joyed to see her son again, and he led her out into the 
garden, and scattered the magic water on the hundred 
black crows, which instantly recovered their human 
forms, and stood up one hundred fine, handsome young 
men. 

Then were there rejoicings throughout the country, 
because the Ranee’s brothers had been disenchanted ; 
and the Rajah sent out into all neighboring lands to in- 
vite their Rajahs and Ranees to a great feast in honor 
of his brothers-in-law. 

Among others who came to the feast was the Rajah 
Draupadi Bai’s father, and the twelve wicked Ranees 
his wives. 

When they were all assembled, Draupadi arose, and 
said to him, “ Noble sir, we had looked to see your 
wife Guzra Bai with you. Pray you tell us wherefore 
she has not accompanied you.” The Rajah was 
much surprised to learn that Draupadi Bai knew any- 
thing about Guzra Bai, and he said, “ Speak not of 
her : she is a wicked woman ; it is fit that she should 
end her days in prison.” But Draupadi Bai and her 
husband, and her hundred brothers, rose and said, 
“ We require, O Rajah, that you send home instantly 
and fetch hither that much injured lady, which, if you 
refuse to do, your wives shall be imprisoned, and you 
ignominiously expelled this kingdom.” 

The Rajah could not guess what the meaning of this 
was, and thought they merely wished to pick a quarrel 
with him : but not much caring whether Guzra Bai 
came or not, he sent for her as was desired. When 
she arrived, her daughter Draupadi Bai, and her hun- 
dred sons, with Draupadi Bai’s husband and the young 
Ramchundra, went out to the gate to meet her, and 


97 


Truth's Triumph. 

conducted her into the palace with all honor. Then, 
standing around her, they turned to the Rajah her hus- 
band, and related to him the story of their lives ; how 
that they were his children, and Guzra Bai their mo- 
ther ; how she had been cruelly calumniated by the 
twelve wicked Ranees, and they in constant peril of 
their lives ; but having miraculously escaped many ter- 
rible dangers, still lived to pay him duteous service 
and to cheer and support his old age. 

At this news the whole company was very much as- 
tonished. The Rajah, overjoyed, embraced his wife 
Guzra Bai, and it was agreed that she and their hun- 
dred sons should return with him to his own land, 
which accordingly was done. Ramchundra lived very 
happily with his father and mother to the day of their 
death, when he ascended the throne, and became a 
very popular Rajah ; and the twelve wicked old Ra- 
nees, who had conspired against Guzra Bai and her 
children, were, by order of the Rajah, burnt to death. 
Thus truth triumphed in the end ; but so unequally is 
human justice meted out that the old nurse, who 
worked their evil will, and was in fact the most guilty 
wretch of all, is said to have lived unpunished, to have 
died in the bosom of her family, and to have had as 
big a funeral pile as any virtuous Hindoo. 

9 E 




V. 

RAMA AND LUXMANj OR . , THE LEARNED OWE 

“With a lengthened loud halloo, 

Tuwhoo, tuwhit, tuwhit, tuwhoo.” 

NCE upon a time there was a Rajah whose name 



W was Chandra Rajah,* and he had a learned 
Wuzeer or Minister, named Butti. Their mutual love 
was so great that they were more like brothers than 
master and servant. Neither the Rajah nor the Wu- 
zeer had any children, and both were equally anxious 
to have a son. At last, in one day and one hour, the 
wife of the Rajah and the wife of the Wuzeer had each 
a little baby boy. They named the Rajah’s son Rama, 
and the son of the Wuzeer was called Luxman, and 
there were great rejoicings at the birth of both. The 
boys grew up and loved each other tenderly : they were 
never happy unless together ; together they went to 
daily school, together bathed and played, and they 
would not eat except from off one plate. One day, 
when Rama Rajah was fifteen years old, his mother, 
the Ranee, said to Chandra Rajah : “ Husband, our 
son associates too much with low people ; for instance, 
he is always at play with the Wuzeer’s son, Luxman, 
which is not befitting his rank. I wish you would 


* Moon-King. 


98 



Rama and Luxman ; or , The Learned Owl. 99 

endeavor to put an end to their friendship, and find 
him better playmates.” 

Chandra Rajah replied, “ I cannot do it : Luxman’s 
father is my very good friend and Wuzeer, as his 
father’s father was to my father ; let the sons be the 
same.” This answer annoyed the Ranee, but she said 
no more to her husband ; she sent, however, for all the 
wise people, and seers, and conjurors in the land, and 
inquired of them whether there existed no means of 
dissolving the children’s affection for each other ; they 
answered they knew of none. At last one old Nautch* 
woman came to the Ranee and said, “ I can do this 
thing you wish, but for it you must give me a great 
reward.” Then the Ranee gave the old woman an 
enormous bag full of gold mohurs,f and said, “ This I 
give you now, and if you succeed in the undertaking I 
will give you as much again.” So this wicked old 
woman disguised herself in a very rich dress, and went 
to a garden-house which Chandra Rajah had built for 
his son, and where Rama Rajah and Luxman, the 
young Wuzeer, used to spend the greater part of their 
playtime. Outside the house was a large well and a 
fine garden. When the old woman arrived, the two 
boys were playing cards together in the garden close 
to the well. She drew near, and began drawing water 
from it. Rama Rajah looking up, saw her, and said 
to Luxman, u Go, see who that richly-dressed woman 
is, and bring me word.” The Wuzeer’s son did as he 
was bidden, and asked the woman what she wanted. 
She answered, “ Nothing, oh nothing,” and nodding 
her head went away ; then, returning to the Ranee, 

* The caste to which conjurors belong. 

t Gold pieces, worth about $7.50. 


IOO 


Old Deccan Days. 


she said, “ I have done as you wished ; give me the 
promised reward,” and the Ranee gave her the second 
bag of gold. On Luxman’s return, the young Rajah 
said to him, “What did the woman want?” Luxman 
answered, “ She told me she wanted nothing.” “ It is 
not true,” replied the other, angrily ; “ I feel certain 
she must have told you something. Why should she 
come here for no purpose ? It is some secret which 
you are concealing from me ; I insist on knowing it.” 
Luxman vainly protesting his innocence, they quar- 
reled and then fought, and the young Rajah ran home 
very angry to his father. “ What is the matter, my 
son?” said he. “Father,” he answered, “I am angry 
with the Wuzeer’s son. I hate that boy ; kill him, and 
let his eyes be brought to me in proof of his death, or 
I will not eat my dinner.” Chandra Rajah was very 
much grieved at this, but the young Rajah would eat 
no dinner, and at last his father said to the Wuzeer, 
“ Take your son away and hide him, for the boys have 
had a quarrel.” Then he went out and shot a deer, and 
showing its eyes to Rama, said to him, “ See, my 
son, the good Wuzeer’s son has by your order been 
deprived of life,” and Rama Rajah was merry, and ate 
his dinner. But a while after he began to miss his kind 
playmate ; there was nobody he cared for to tell him 
stories and amuse him. Then for four nights running 
he dreamed of a beautiful Glass Palace, in which dwelt 
a Princess white as marble, and he sent for all the wise 
people in the kingdom to interpret his dream, but none 
could do it ; and, thinking upon this fair princess and 
his lost friend, he got more and more sad, and said to 
himself : “ There is nobody to help me in this matter. 
Ah ! if my Wuzeer’s son were here now, how quickly 


Kama and Luxtnan^ or , The Learned Owl. ioi 

would he interpret the dream ! Oh, my friend, my 
friend, my dear lost friend !” and when Chandra Rajah, 
his father, came in, he said to him : “ Show me the 
grave of Luxman, son of the Wuzeer, that I also may 
die there. ,, His father replied, “ What a foolish boy 
you are ! You first begged that the Wuzeer’s son might 
be killed, and now you want to die on his grave. What 
is all this about?” Rama Rajah replied, “ Oh, why did 
you give the order for him to be put to death ? In him 
I have lost my friend and all my joy in life ; show me 
now his grave, for thereon, I swear, will I kill myself.” 
When the Rajah saw that his son really grieved for the 
loss of Luxman, he said to him, “ You have to thank 
me for not regarding your foolish wishes ; your old 
playmate is living, therefore be friends again, for what 
you thought were his eyes were but the eyes of a deer.” 
So the friendship of Rama and Luxman was resumed 
on its former footing. Then Rama said to Luxman, 
“ Four nights ago I dreamed a strange dream. I 
thought that for miles and miles I wandered through a 
dense, jungle, after which I came upon a grove of 
Cocoa-nut trees, passing through which I reached one 
compound entirely of Guava trees, then one of Soparee* 
trees, and lastly one of Copal trees : beyond this lay a 
garden of flowers, of which the Malee’s wife gave me 
a bunch ; round the garden ran a large river, and on 
the other side of this I saw a fair palace composed of 
transparent glass, and in the centre of it sat the most 
lovely Princess I ever saw, white as marble and covered 
with rich jewels ; at the sight of her beauty I fainted — 
and so awoke. This has happened now four times, 
and as yet I have found no one capable of throwing 
* Areca catechu — the betel-nut palm. 


102 Old Deccan Days . 

any light on the vision.” Luxman answered, “ I can 
tell you. There exists a Princess exactly like her you 
saw in your dreams, and, if you like, you can go and 
marry her.” “ How can I?” said Rama; “ and what 
is your interpretation of the dream?” The Wuzeer’s 
son replied, “ Listen to me, and I will tell you. In a 
country very far away from this, in the centre of a great 
Rajah’s kingdom, there dwells his daughter, a most 
fair Princess ; she lives in a glass palace. Round this 
palace runs a large river, and round the river is a garden 
of flowers. Round the garden are four thick groves of 
trees — one of Copal trees, one of Soparee trees, one of 
Guava trees, and one of Cocoa-nut trees. The Princess 
is twenty-four years old, but she is not married, for she 
has determined only to marry whoever can jump this 
river and greet her in her crystal palace, and though 
many thousand kings have essayed to do so, they have 
all perished miserably in the attempt, having either 
been drowned in the river, or broken their necks by 
falling ; thus all that you dreamed of is perfectly true.” 
“ Can we go to this country?” asked the young Rajah. 
“ Oh, yes,” his friend replied. “ This is What you must 
do. Go tell your father you wish to see the world. 
Ask him for neither elephants nor attendants, but beg 
him to lend you for the journey his old war-horse.” 

Upon this Rama went to his father, and said, 
“Father, I pray you give me leave to go and travel 
with the Wuzeer’s son. I desire to see the world.” 
“ What would you have for the journey, my son ?” said 
Chandra Rajah ; “ will you have elephants and how 
many? — attendants, how many?” “Neither, father,” 
he answered, “ give me rather, I pray you, your old 
war-horse, that I may ride him during the jcurney.” 


Kama and Luxman ; or. The Learned Owl. 103 

“ So be it, my son,” he answered, and with that Rama 
Rajah and Luxman set forth on their travels. After 
going many, many thousands of miles, to their joy one 
day they come upon a dense grove of Cocoa-nut trees, 
and beyond that to a grove of Guava trees, then to one 
of Soparee trees, and lastly to one of Copal trees ; after 
which they entered a beautiful garden, where the 
Malee’s wife presented them with a large bunch of 
flowers. Then they knew that they had nearly reached 
the place where the fair Princess dwelt. Now it hap- 
pened that, because many kings and great people had 
been drowned in trying to jump over the river that ran 
round the Glass Palace where the Princess lived, the 
Rajah, her father, had made a law that, in future, no 
aspirants to her hand were to attempt the jump, except 
at stated times and with his knowledge and permission, 
and that any Rajahs or Princes found wandering there, 
contrary to this law, were to be imprisoned. Of this 
the young Rajah and the Wuzeer’s son knew nothing, 
and having reached the centre of the garden they found 
themselves on the banks of a large river, exactly oppo- 
site the wondrous Glass Palace, and were just debating 
what further steps to take, when they were seized by 
the Rajah’s guard, and hurried off to’prison. 

“ This is a hard fate,” said Luxman. “ Yes,” sighed 
Rama Rajah ; “ a dismal end, in truth, to all our fine 
schemes. Would it be possible, think you, to escape?” 
“ I think so,” answered Luxman ; “ at all events, I will 
try.” With that he turned to the sentry who was 
guarding them, and said, “ We are shut in here and 
can’t get out : here is money for you if you will only 
have the goodness to call out that the Malee’s Cow has 
strayed away.” The sentry thought this a very easy 


Old Deccan Days. 


104 

way of making a fortune ; so he called out as he was 
bidden, and took the money. The result answered 
Luxman’s anticipations. The Malee’s wife, hearing 
the sentry calling out, thought to herself, “ What, 
sentries round the guard-room again ! then there must 
be prisoners ; doubtless they are those two young 
Rajahs I met in the garden this morning ; at least, I 
will endeavor to release them.’* So she asked two old 
beggars to accompany her, and taking with her offer- 
ings of flowers and sweetmeats, started as if to go to a 
little temple which was built within the quadrangle 
where the .prisoners were kept. The sentries, thinking 
she was only going with two old friends to visit the 
temple, allowed her to pass without opposition. As 
soon as she got within the quadrangle she unfastened 
the prison door, and told the two young men (Rama 
Rajah and Luxman) to change clothes with the two 
old beggars, which they instantly did. Then, leaving 
the beggars in the cell, she conducted Rama and Lux- 
man safely to her house. When they had reached it 
she said to them, “ Young Princes, you must know that 
you did very wrong in going down to the river before 
having made a salaam to our Rajah, and gained his 
consent ; and so strict is the law on the subject that had 
I not assisted your escape, you might have remained a 
long time in prison ; though, as I felt certain you only 
erred through ignorance, I was the more willing to 
help you ; but to-morrow morning early you must go 
and pay your respects at court.” 

Next day the guards brought their two prisoners to 
the Rajah, saying; “See, O-King, here are two young 
Rajahs whom we caught last night wandering near the 
river contrary to vour law and commandment.” But 


Rama and Luxman ; or , The Learned Owl . 105 

when they came to look at the prisoners, lo and be- 
hold! they were only two old beggars whom every- 
body knew and had often seen at the palace gate. 

Then the Rajah laughed and said, u You stupid fel- 
lows, you have been over vigilant for once ; see h ere 
your fine young Rajahs. Don’t you yet know the looks 
of these old beggars ?” Whereupon the guards went 
away much ashamed of themselves. 

Having learnt discretion from the advice of the 
Malee’s wife, Rama and Luxman went betimes that 
morning to call at the Rajah’s palace. The Rajah re- 
ceived them very graciously, but when he heard the 
object of the journey he shook his head, and said, “My 
pretty fellows, far be it from me to thwart your inten- 
tions, if you are really determined to strive to win my 
daughter, the Princess Bargaruttee ;* but as a friend I 
would counsel you to desist from the attempt. You can 
find a hundred Princesses elsewhere willing to marry 
you ; why, therefore, come here, where already a thou- 
sand Princes as fair as you have lost there lives ? Cease 
to think of my daughter — she is a headstrong girl.” 
But Rama Rajah still declared himself anxious to try 
and jump the dangerous river, whereupon the Rajah 
unwillingly consented to his attempting to do so, and 
caused it to be solemnly proclaimed around the town 
that another Prince was going to risk his life, begging 
all good men and true to pray for his success. Then 
Rama, having dressed gorgeously, and mounted his 
father’s stout war-horse, put spurs to it and galloped to 
the river. Up, up in the air, like a bird, jumped the 
good war-horse, right across the river and into the very 
centre courtyard of the Glass Palace of the Princess 
* A name of the Ganges. 


io6 


Old Deccan Days. 


Bargaruttee ; and, as if ashamed of so poor an exploit, 
this feat he accomplished three times. At this the 
heart of the Rajah was glad, and he ran and patted 
the brave horse, and kissed Rama Rajah, and said, 
“ Welcome, my son-in-law.” The wedding took place 
amid great rejoicings, with feasts, illuminations and 
much giving of presents, and there Rama Rajah and 
his wife, the Ranee Bargaruttee, lived happily for some 
time. At last, one day Rama Rajah said to his father- 
in-law, “ Sire, I have been very happy here, but I 
have a great desire to see my father and my mother, 
and my own land again.” To which the Rajah re- 
plied, “ My son, you are free to go ; but I have no son 
but you, nor daughter but your wife : therefore, as it 
grieves me to lose sight of you, come back now and 
then to see me and rejoice my heart. My doors are 
ever open to you ; you will be always welcome.” 

Rama Rajah promised to return occasionally ; and 
then, being given many rich gifts by the old Rajah, and 
supplied with all things needful for the journey, he, 
with his beautiful wife Bargaruttee, his friend the 
young Wuzeer, and a great retinue, set out to return 
home. Before going, Rama Rajah and Luxman richly 
rewarded the kind Malee’s wife, who had helped them 
so ably. On the first evening of their march the trav- 
elers reach the borders of the Cocoa-nut grove, on the 
outskirts of the jungle ; here they determined to halt 
and rest for the night. Rama Rajah and the Ranee 
Bargaruttee went to their tent ; but Luxman (whose 
tender love for them was so great that he usually 
watched all night through at their door), was sitting 
under a large tree close by, when two little owls flew 
over his head, and perching on one of the highest 


Kama and Luxman ' y or , The Learned Owl. 107 

branches, began chattering to each other. * The 
Wuzeer’s son, who was in many ways wiser than most 
men, could understand their language. To his sur- 
prise he heard the little lady owl say to her husband, 
“ I wish you would tell me a story, my dear, it is such 
a long time since I have heard one.” To which her 
husband, the other little owl, answered, “A story! 
what story can I tell you ? Do you see these people 
encamped under our tree? Would you like to hear 
their story?” She assented ; and he began : “ See first 
this poor Wuzeer ; he is a good and faithful man, and 
has done much for this young Rajah, but neither has 
that been to his advantage heretofore, nor will it be 
hereafter.” At this Luxman listened more attentively, 
and taking out his writing tablets determined to note 
down all he heard. The little owl commenced with 
the story of the birth of Rama and Luxman, of their 
friendship, their quarrel, the young Rajah’s dream, and 
their reconciliation, and then told of their subsequent 
adventures in search of the Princess Bargaruttee, down 
to that very day on which they were journeying home. 
“And what more has Fate in store for this poor 
Wuzeer?” asked the lady owl. “From this place,” 
replied her husband, “ he will journey on with the 
young Rajah and Ranee, until they get very near 
Chandra Rajah’s dominions ; there, as the whole cav- 
alcade is about to pass under a large Banyan tree, this 
Wuzeer Luxman will notice some of the topmost 
branches swaying about in a dangerous manner ; he 
will hurry the Rajah and Ranee away from it, and the 
tree (which would otherwise have inevitably killed 
them,) will fall to the ground with a tremendous crash ; 

* See Notes at the end. 


io8 


Old Deccan Days . 


but even his having thus saved the Rajah’s life shall 
not avert his fate.” (All this the Wuzeer noted down.) 
“And what next?” said the wife, “what next?” 
“ Next,” continued the wise little story-teller; “ next, 
just as the Rajah Rama and the Ranee Bargaruttee 
and all their suite are passing under the palace door- 
way, the Wuzeer will notice that the arch is insecure, 
and by dragging them quickly through, prevent their 
being crushed in its fall.” “And what will he do after 
that, dear husband?” she asked. “After that,” he 
went on, “ when the Rajah and Ranee are asleep, and 
the Wuzeer Luxman keeping guard over them, he will 
perceive a large cobra slowly crawling down the wall 
and drawing nearer and nearer to the Ranee. He 
will kill it with his sword, but a drop of the cobra’s 
blood shall fall on the Ranee’s white forehead. The 
Wuzeer will not dare to wipe the blood off her fore- 
head with his hand, but shall instead cover his face 
with a cloth that he may lick it off with his tongue ; 
but for this the Rajah will be angry with him, and 
his reproaches will turn this poor Wuzeer into 
stone.” > 

“ Will he always remain stone?” asked the lady owl. 
“ Not for ever,” answered the husband, “ but for eight 
long years he will remain so.” “And what then?” 
demanded she. “ Then,” answered the other, “ when 
the young Rajah and Ranee have a baby, it shall come 
to pass that one day the child shall be playing on the 
floor, and to help itself along shall clasp hold of the 
stony figure, and at that baby’s touch the Wuzeer will 
come to life again. But I have told you enough for 
one night ; come, let’s catch mice — tuwhit, tuwboo, 
tuwhoo,” and away flew the owls. Luxman had writ- 


Rama and Luxman ; <?r, The Learned Owl . 109 

ten down all he heard, and it made him heavy-hearted, 
but he thought, “ Perhaps, after all, this may not be 
true.” So he said nothing about it to any living soul. 
Next day they continued their journey, and as the owl 
had prophesied, so events fell out. For, as the whole 
party were passing under a large Banyan tree, the 
Wuzeer noticed that it looked unsafe. “The owl 
spake truly,” he thought to himself, and, seizing the 
Rajah and Ranee, he hurried them from under it, 
just as a huge limb of the tree fell prone with a fearful 
crash. 

A little while after, having reached Chandra Rajah’s 
dominions, they were just going under the great arch 
of the palace court-yard, when the Wuzeer noticed some 
of the stones tottering. “ The owl was a true prophet,” 
thought he again, and catching hold of the hands of 
Rama Rajah and Bargaruttee Ranee, he pulled them 
rapidly through, just in time to save their lives. “ Par- 
don me,” he said to the Rajah, “ that unbidden I dared 
thus to touch your hand and that of the Ranee, but I 
saw the danger imminent.” So they reached home, 
where they were joyfully welcomed by Chandra Rajah, 
the Ranee, the Wuzeer (Luxman’s father), and all the 
court. 

A few nights afterward, when the Rajah and Ranee 
were asleep, and the young Wuzeer keeping guard 
over them as he was wont, he saw a large black cobra 
stealthily creeping down the wall just above the Ranee’s 
head. “ Alas !” he thought, “ then such is my fate, 
and so it must be ; nevertheless, I will do my duty',” 
and, taking from the folds of his dress the history of 
his and the young Rajah’s life, from their boyhood 
down to that very time (as he had written it from the 
10 


no 


Old Deccan Days . 


owl’s narrative), he laid it beside the sleeping Rama, 
and drawing his sword, killed the cobra. A few drops 
of the serpent’s blood fell on the Ranee’s forehead : 
the Wuzeer did not dare to touch it with his hand, but, 
that her sacred brow might not be defiled with the vile 
cobra’s blood, he reverently covered his face and mouth 
with a cloth to lick the drops of blood away. At this 
moment the Rajah started up, and seeing him, said : 
“O Wuzeer, Wuzeer, is this well done of you? O 
Luxman, who have been to* me as a brother, who have 
saved me from so many difficulties, why do you treat 
me thus, to kiss her holy forehead? If indeed you 
loved her (as who could help it?), could you not have 
told me when we first saw her in that Glass Palace, 
and I would have exiled myself that she might be your 
wife ? O my brother, my brother, why did you mock 
me thus ?” The Rajah had buried his face in his hands ; 
he looked up, he turned to the Wuzeer, but from him 
came neither answer nor reply. He had become a 
senseless stone. Then Rama for the first time per- 
ceived the roll of paper which Luxman had laid beside 
him, and when he read in it of what Luxman had been 
to him from boyhood, and of the end, his bitter grief 
broke through all bounds ; and, falling at the feet of 
the statue, he clasped its stony knees and wept aloud. 
When daylight dawned, Chandra Rajah and the Ranee 
found Rama still weeping and hugging the stone, ask- 
ing its forgiveness with penitent cries and tears. Then 
they said to him, “What is this you have done?” 
When he told them, the Rajah his father was very 
angry, and said: “Was it not enough that you should 
have once before unjustly desired the death of this good 
man, but that now by your rash reproaches you should 


Rama and Luxman; or , The Leai-ned Owl. hi 

have turned him into stone ? Go to ; you do but con- 
tinually what is evil.” 

Now eight long years rolled by without the Wuzeer 
returning to his original form, although every day 
Rama Rajah and Bargaruttee Ranee would watch be- 
side him, kissing his cold hands, and adjuring him by 
all endearing names to forgive them and return to them 
again. When eight years had expired, Rama and 
Bargaruttee had a child ; and from the time it was 
nine months old and first began to try and crawl about, 
the father and mother would sit and watch beside it, 
placing it near the Wuzeer’s statue, in hopes that the 
baby would some day touch it as the owl had fore- 
told. 

But for three months they watched in vain. At last, 
one day when the child was a year old, and was trying 
to walk, it chanced to be close to the statue, and tot- 
tering on its unsteady feet, stretched out its tiny hands 
and caught hold of the foot of the statue. The Wuzeer 
instantly came back to life, and stooping down seized 
the little baby who had rescued him in his arms, and 
kissed it. It is impossible to describe the delight of 
Rama Rajah and his wife at regaining their long-lost 
friend. The old Rajah and Ranee rejoiced also, with 
the Wuzeer (Luxman Wuzeer’s father), and his mo- 
ther. 

Then Chandra Rajah said to the Wuzekr : “ Here is 
my boy happy with his wife and child, while your son 
has neither ; go fetch him a wife, and we will have a 
right merry wedding.” 

So the Wuzeer of the Rajah fetched for his son 
a kind and beautiful wife, and Chandra Rajah and 
Rama Rajah caused the wedding of Luxman to be 


1 12 


Old Deccan Days. 


grander than that of any great Rajah before or since, 
even as if he had been a son of the royal house ; and 
they all lived very happy ever after, as . all good 
fathers, and mothers, and husbands, and wives, and 
children do. 




VI. 


LITTLE SURYA BA I. 

POOR Milkwoman was once going into the town 



l \ with cans full of milk to sell. She took with her 
her little daughter (a baby of about a year old), having 
no. one in whose charge to leave her at home. Being 
tired, she sat down by the road-side, placing the child 
and the cans full of milk beside her; when, on a sud- 
den, two large eagles flew over-head ; and one, swoop- 
ing down, seized the child, and flew away with her out 
of the mother’s sight. 

Very far, far away the eagles carried the little baby, 
even beyond the borders of her native land, until they^, 
reached their home in a lofty tree. There the old 
^eagles had built a great nest ;<it was made of iron and 
wood, and was as big as a little house ; there was iron 
all round, and to get in and out you had to go through 
seven iron doors. 

In tlus stronghold they placed the little baby, and 
because she was like a young eaglet they called her 
Surya Bai (the Sun Lady). The eagles both loved 
the child ; and daily they flew into distant countries to 
bring her rich and precious things — clothes that had 
been made for princesses, precious jewels, wonderful 
playthings, all that was most costly and rare. 

One day, when Surya Bai was twelve years old, the 
io * 113 


Old Deccan Days, 


IX 4 

old husband Eagle said to his wife, u Wife, our daugh- 
ter has no -diamond ring on her little finger, such as 
princesses wear ; let us go and fetch her one.” “ Yes,” 
said the other old Eagle ; “ but to fetch it we must go 
very far.” “ True,” rejoined he, “ such a ring is not to 
be got nearer than the Red Sea, and that is a twelve- 
month’s journey from here ; nevertheless we will go.” 
So the Eagles started off, leaving Surya Bai in the 
strong nest, with twelve months’ provisions (that she 
might not be hungry whilst they were away), and a 
little dog and cat to take care of her. 

Not long after they were gone, one day the naughty 
little cat stole some food from the store, for doing 
which Surya Bai punished her. The cat did not like 
being whipped, and she was still more annoyed at 
having been caught stealing ; so, in revenge, she ran to 
the fireplace (they were obliged to keep a fire always 
burning in the Eagle’s nest, as Surya Bai never went 
down from the tree, and would not otherwise have 
.^been able to cook her dinner), and put out the fire. 

~ When the little girl saw this she was much vexed, for 
the cat had eaten their l^st cooked provisions, and she^ 
did not know what they were to do for food. For 
three whole days Surya Bai puzzled over the difficulty, 
and for three whole days she and the dog and the cat 
had nothing to eat. At last she thought she^ would 
climb to the edge of the nest, and see if she could see 
any fire in the country below ; and, if so, she would go 
down and ask the people who lighted it to give her a 
little with which to cook her dinner. So she climbed 
to the edge of the nest. Then, very far away on the 
horizon, she saw a thin curl of blue smoke.. So she let 
herself down from the tree, and all day long she walked 


Little Surya Bai. 


"5 


in the direction whence the smoke came. Toward 
evening she reached the place, and found it rose from 
a small hut in which sat an old woman warming her 
hands over a fire. Now, though Surya Bai did not 
know it, she had reached the Rakshas’ country, ind 
this old woman was none other than a wicked old 
Rakshas, who lived with her son in the little hut. The 
young Rakshas, however, had gone out for the day. 
When the old Rakshas saw Surya Bai, she was much 
astonished, for the girl was beautiful as the sun, and 
her rich dress was resplendent with jewels ; and she 
said to herself, “ How lovely this child is ; what a 
dainty morsel she would be ! Oh, if my son were only 
here we would kill her, and boil her, and eat her. I 
will try and detain her till his return.” Then, turning 
to Surya Bai, she said, “ Who are you, and what do 
you want?” Surya Bai answered, “ I am the daughter 
of the great Eagles, but they have gone a far journey, 
to fetch me a diamond ring, and the fire has died out 
in the nest. Give me, I pray you, a little from your 
hearth.” The Rakshas replied, “ You shall certainly 
have some, only first pound this rice for me, for I am 
old, and have no daughter to help me.” Then Surya 
Bai pounded the rice, but the young Rakshas had not 
returned by the time she had finished ; so the old Bak- 
shas said to her, “ If you are kind, grind this corn for 
me, for it is hard work for my old hands.” Then she 
ground the corn, but still the young Rahshas came not ; 
and the old Rakshas said to her, “ Sweep the house for 
me first, and then I will give you the fire.” So Surya 
Bai swept the house ; but still the young Rakshas did 
not come. 

Then his mother said to Surya Bai, “ Why should 


Old Deccan Days. 


116 

you be in such a hurry to go home? fetch me some 
water from the well, and then you shall have the fire.” 
And she fetched the water. When she had done so, 
Surya Bai said, “ I have done all your bidding, now 
give me the fire, or I will go elsewhere and seek it.” 

The old Rakshas was grieved because her son had 
not returned home ; but she saw she could detain Surya 
Bai no longer, so she said, “ Take the fire and go in 
peace ; take also some parched corn, and scatter it 
along the road as you go, so as to make a pretty little 
pathway from our house to yours,” — and so saying, she 
gave Surya Bai several handsful of parched corn. The 
girl took them, fearing no evil, and as she went she 
scattered the grains on the road. Then she climbed 
back into the nest and shut the seven iron doors, and 
lighted the fire, and cooked the food, and gave the dog 
and the cat some dinner, and took some herself, and 
went to sleep. 

No sooner had Surya Bai left the Rakshas’ hut, than 
the young Rakshas returned, and his mother said to 
him, “ Alas, alas, my son, why did not you come 
sooner? Such a sweet little lamb has been here, and 
now we have lost her.” Then she told him all about 
Surya Bai. “Which way did she go?” asked the 
young Rakshas ; “ only tell me that, and I’ll have her 
before morning,” 

His mother told him how she had given Surya Bai 
the parched corn to scatter on the road ; and when he 
heard that, he followed up the track, and ran, and ran, 
and ran, till he came to the foot of the tree. 

There, looking up, he saw the nest high in the 
branches above them. 

Quick as thought, up he climbed, and reached the 


Little Surya Bcti. 


ii 7 

great outer door ; and he shook it, and shook it, but 
he could not get in, for Surya Bai had bolted it. Then 
he said, “ Let me in, my child, let me in ; I’m the 
great Eagle, and I have come from very far, and 
brought you many beautiful jewels ; and here is a 
splendid diamond ring to fit your little finger.” But 
Surya Bai did not hear him— she was fast asleep. 

He next tried to force open the door again, but it was 
too strong for him. In his efforts, however, he had 
broken oft' one of his finger nails (now the nail of a 
Rakshas is most poisonous), which he left sticking in 
the crack of the door when he went away. 

Next morning Surya Bai opened all the doors, in order 
to look down on the world below ; but when she came to 
the seventh door a sharp thing, which was sticking in it, 
ran into her hand, and immediately she fell down dead. 

At that same moment the two poor old Eagles re- 
turned from their long twelvemonth’s journey, bringing 
a beautiful diamond ring, which they had fetched for 
their little favorite from the Red Sea. 

There she lay on the threshold of the nest, beautiful 
© as ever, but cold and dead. 

The Eagles could not bear the sight ; so they placed 
the ring on her finger, and then, with loud cries, flew 
off to return no more. 

But a little while after there chanced to come by a 
great Rajah, who was out on a hunting expedition. He 
came with hawks, and hounds, and attendants, and 
hoises, and pitched his camp under the tree in which 
the Eagles’ nest was built. Then looking up, he saw, . 
amongst the topmost branches, what appeared like a 
queer little house ; and he sent some of his attendants 
to see what it was. They soon returned, and tojd the 


Ii8 Old Deccan Days. 

Rajah that up in the tree was a curious thing like a 
cage, having seven iron doors, and that on the threshold 
of the first door lay a fair maiden, richly dressed ; that 
she was dead, and that beside her stood a little dog and 
a little cat. 

At this the Rajah commanded that they should be 
fetched down, and when he saw Surya Bai he felt very 
sad t 9 think that she was dead. And he took her hand 
to feel if it were already stiff; but all her limbs were 
supple, nor had she become cold, as the dead are cold ; 
and, looking again at her hand, the Rajah saw that a 
sharp thing, like a long thorn, had run into the tender 
palm, almost far enough to pierce through to the back 
of her hand. 

He pulled it out, and no sooner had he done so than 
Surya Bai opened her eyes, and stood up, crying, 
“Where am I? and who are you? Is it a dream, or 
true?” 

The Rajah answered, 44 It is all true, beautiful lady. 
I am the Rajah of a neighboring land ; pray tell me 
who are you 

She replied, 44 I am the Eagles* child.” But he 
laughed. 44 Nay,” he said, 44 that cannot be ; you are 
some great Princess.’* 44 No,” she answered, 44 1 am no 
royal lady ; what I say is true. I have lived all my life 
in this tree. I am only the Eagles’ child.” 

Then the Rajah said, 44 If you are not a Princess born, 
I will make you one, say only you will be my Queen.” 

Surya Bai consented, and the Rajah took her to his 
kingdom and made her his Queen. But Surya Bai 
was not his only wife, and the first Ranee, his other 
wife, was both envious and jealous of her.* 

* See Notes at the end. 


Little Surya Bai . 


Il 9 

The Rajah gave Surya Bai many trustworthy atten- 
dants to guard her and be with her ; and one old woman 
loved Surya Bai more than all the rest, and used to say 
to her, “ Don’t be too intimate with the first Ranee, 
dear lady, for she wishes you no good, and she has 
power to do you harm. Some day she may poison or 
otherwise injure you but Surya Bai would answer 
her, “Nonsense! what is there to be alarmed about? 
Why cannot we both live happily together like two sis-^ 
ters?” Then the old woman would rejoin, “ Ah, deal 
lady, may you never live to rue your confidence ! I 
pray my fears may prove folly.” So ‘Surya Bai went 
often to see the first Ranee, and the first Ranee also 
came often to see her. 

One day they were standing in the palace court-yard, 
near a tank, where the Rajah’s people used to bathe, 
and the first Ranee said to Surya Bai, “ What pretty 
jewels you have, sister ! let me try them on for a minute, 
and see how I look in them.” 

The old woman was standing beside Surya Bai, and 
she whispered to her, “ Do not lend her your jewels.” 
“ Hush, you silly old woman,” answered she. “ What 
harm will it do ?” and she gave the Ranee her jewels. 
Then the Ranee said, “ How pretty all your things are ! 
Do you not think they look well even on me ? Let us 
come down to the tank ; it is as clear as glass, and we 
can see ourselves reflected in it, and how these jewels 
will shine in the clear water !” 

The old woman, hearing this, was much alarmed, 
and begged Surya Bai not to venture near the tank, but 
she said, “ I bid you be silent ; I will not distrust my sis- 
ter.” and she went down to the tank. Then, when no 
one was near, and they were both leaning over, looking 


120 


Old Deccan Days, 


at their reflections in the water, the first Ranee pushed 
Surya Bai into the tank, who, sinking undei water, was 
drowned ; and from* the place where her body fell there 
sprang up a bright golden sunflower. 

The Rajah shortly afterward inquired where Surya 
Bai was, but nowhere could she be found. Then, 
very angry, he came to the first Ranee and said, “Tell 
me where the child is? You have made away with 
her.” But she answered, “ You do me wrong ; I know 
nothing of her. Doubtless that old woman, whom you 
allowed to be always with her, has done her some 
harm.” So the* Rajah ordered the poor old woman to 
be thrown into prison. 

He tried to forget Surya Bai and all her pretty ways, 
but it was no good. Wherever he went he saw her 
face. Whatever he heard, he still listened for her voice. 
Every day he grew more miserable ; he would not eat 
or drink ; and as for the other Ranee, he could not bear 
to speak to her. All his people said, “ He will surely 
die.” 

When matters were in this state, the Rajah one day 
wandered to the edge of the tank, and bending over the 
parapet, looked into the water. Then he was surprised 
to see, growing out of the tank close beside him, a 
stately golden flower ; and as he watched it, the sun- 
flower gently bent its head and leaned down toward 
him. The Rajah’s heart was softened, and he kissed 
its leaves and murmured, “ This flower reminds me of 
my lost wife. I love it^ it is fair and gentle as she used 
to be.” And every day he would go down to the tank ; 
and sit and watch the flower. When the Ranee heard 
this, she ordered her servants to go and dig the sun- 
flower up, and to take it far into the jungle and burn it 


Little Surya Bai . 121 

Next time the Rajah went to the tank he found his 
flower gone, and he was much grieved, but none dare 
say who had done it. 

Then, in the jungle, from the place where the ashes 
of the sunflower had been thrown, there sprang up a 
young mango tree, tall and straight, that grew so 
quickly, and became such a beautiful tree, that it was 
the wonder of all the country round. At last, on its 
topmost bough, came one fair blossom ; and the blos- 
som fell, and the little mango grew rosier and rosier, 
and larger and larger, till so wonderful was it both for 
size and shape that people flocked from far and near 
only to look at it. 

But none ventured to gather it, for it was to be kept 
for the Rajah himself. 

• Now one day, the poor Milkwoman, Surya Bai’s 
mother, was returning homeward after her day’s work 
with the empty milk cans, and being very tired with 
her long walk to the bazaar, she lay down under the 
mango tree and fell asleep. Then, right into her 
largest milk can, fell the wonderful mango ! When 
the poor woman awoke and saw what had happened, 
she was dreadfully frightened, and thought to herself, 
“ If any one sees me with this wonderful fruit, that all 
the Rajah’s great people have been watching for so 
many, many weeks, they will never believe that I did 
not steal it, and I shall be put in prison, Yet it is no 
good leaving it here ; besides, it fell off of itself into my 
milk can. I will therefore take it home as secretly as 
possible, and share it with my children.” 

So the Milkwoman covered up the can in which the 
mango was, and took it quickly to her home, where 
she placed it in the corner of the room, and put over it 
11 


122 


Old Deccan Days. 


a dozen other milk cans, piled one above another. 
Then, as soon as it was dark, she called her husband 
and eldest son (for she had six or seven children), and 
said to them, “ What good fortune do you think has 
befallen me to-day ?” 

“ We cannot guess,” they said. “ Nothing less,” 
she went on, “ than the wonderful, wonderful mango 
falling into one of my milk cans while I slept ! I have 
brought it home with me ; it is in that lowest can. Go, 
husband, call all the children to have a slice ; and you, 
my son, take down that pile of cans and fetch me the 
mango.” u Mother,” he said, when he got to the 
lowest can, u you were joking, I suppose, when you 
told us there was a mango here.” 

“ No, not at all,” she answered ; “ there is a mango 
there. I put it there myself an hour ago.” 

“ Well, there’s something quite different now,” re- 
plied the son. “ Come and see.” 

The Milkwoman ran to the place, and there, in the 
lowest can, she saw, not the mango, but a little tiny 
wee lady, richly dressed in red and gold, and no big- 
ger than a mango ! On her head shone a bright jewel 
like a little sun. 

“ This is very odd,” said the mother. “ I never 
heard of such a thing in my life ! But since she has 
been sent to us, I will take care of her, as if she were 
my own child.” 

Every day the little lady grew taller and taller, until 
she was the size of an ordinary woman ; she was gen- 
tle and lovable, but always sad and quiet, and she 
said her name was “ Surya Bai.” 

The children were all very curious to know her his- 
tory, but th£ Milkwoman and her husband would not 


123 


Little Surya Bai. 

let her be teased to tell who she was, and said to the 
children, 44 Let us wait. By and by, when she knows 
us better, she will most likely tell us her story of her 
own accord.” 

Now it came to pass that once, when Surya Bai was 
taking water from the well for the old Milkwoman, the 
Rajah rode by, and as he saw her walking along, he 
cried, 44 That is my wife,” and rode after her as fast as 
possible. Surya Bai hearing a great clatter of horses* 
hoofs, was frightened, and ran home as fast as possible, 
and hid herself ; and when the Rajah reached the place 
there was only the old Milkwoman to be seen standing 
at the door of her hut. 

Then the Rajah said to her, 44 Give her up, old 
woman, you have no right to keep her ; she is mine, 
she is mine !” But the old woman answered, 44 Are 
you mad ? I don’t know what you mean.” 

The Rajah replied, 44 Do not attempt to deceive me. 
I saw my wife go in at your door ; she must be in the 
house.” 

44 Your wife?” screamed the old woman — 44 youi 
wife? you mean my daughter, who lately returned 
from the well ! Do you think I am going to give my 
child up at your command? You are Rajah in your 
palace, but I am Rajah in my own house ; and I won’t 
give up my little daughter for any bidding of yours. 
Be off with you, or I’ll pull out your beard.” And 
so saying, she seized a long stick and attacked the 
Rajah, calling out loudly to her husband and sons, 
who came running to her aid. 

The Rajah, seeing matters were against him, and 
having outridden his attendants (and not being quite 
certain moreover whether he had seen Surya Bai, or 


124 


Old Deccan Days. 


whether she might not have been really the poor Milk- 
woman’s daughter), rode off and returned to his 
palace. 

However, he determined to sift the matter. As a 
first step he went to see Surya Bai’s old attendant, who 
was still in prison. From her he learnt enough to make 
him believe she was not only entirely innocent of 
Surya Bai’s death, but gravely to suspect the first 
Ranee of having caused it. He therefore ordered the 
old woman to be set at liberty, still keeping a watqh- 
ful eye on her, and bade her prove her devotion to her 
long-lost mistress by going to the Milkwoman’s house, 
and bringing him as much information as possible 
about the family, and more particularly about the girl 
he had seen returning from the well. 

So the attendant went to the Milkwoman’s house, 
and made friends with her, and bought some milk, and 
afterward she stayed and talked to her. 

After a few days the Milkwoman ceased to be sus- 
picious of her, and became quite cordial. 

Surya Bai’s attendant then told how she had been 
the late Ranee’s waiting-woman, and how the Rajah 
had thrown her into prison on her mistress’s death ; in 
return for which intelligence the old Milkwoman im- 
parted to her how the wonderful mango had tumbled 
into her can as she slept under the tree, and how it 
had miraculously changed in the course of an hour 
into a beautiful little lady. “ I wonder why she should 
have chosen my poor house to live in, instead of any 
one else’s,” said the old woman. 

Then Surya Bai’s attendant said, “ Have you ever 
asked her her history? Perhaps she would not mind 
telling it to you now.” 


Little Surya Bai . 


125 


So the Milkwoman called the girl, and as soon as 
the old attendant saw her, she knew it was none other 
than Surya Bai, and her heart jumped for joy ; but she 
remained silent, wondering much, for she knew her 
mistress had been drowned in the tank. 

The old Milkwoman turned to Surya Bai and said, 
“ My child, you have lived long with us, and been a 
good daughter to me ; but I have never asked you your 
history, because I thought it must be a sad one ; but 
if you do not fear to tell it to me now, I should like to 
hear it.” 

Surya Bai answered, “Mother, you speak true ; my 
story is sad. I believe my real mother was a poor 
Milkwoman like you, and that she took me with her 
one day when I was quite a little baby, as she was 
going to sell milk in the bazaar. But being tired with 
the long walk, she sat down to rest, and placed me 
also on the ground, when suddenly a great Eagle flew 
down and carried me away. But all the father and 
mother I ever knew were the two great Eagles.” 

“ Ah, my child ! my child !” cried the Milkwoman, 
“ I was that poor woman ; the Eagles flew away with 
my eldest girl when she was only a year old. Have I 
found you after these many years ?” 

And she ran and called all her children, and her 
husband, to tell them the wonderful news. 

Then was there great rejoicing among them all. 

When they were a little calmer, her mother said to 
Surya Bai, “ Tell us, dear daughter, how your life has 
been spent since first we lost you.” And Surya Bai 
went on : 

“ The old Eagles took me away to their home, and 
there I lived happily many years. They loved to bring 
11 * 


12 6 


Old Deccan Days . 


me all the beautiful things they could find, and at last 
one day they both went to fetch me a diamond ring 
from the Red Sea ; but while they were gone the fire 
went out in the nest : so I went to an old woman’s hut, 
and got her to give me some fire; and next day (I 
don’t know how it was), as I was opening the outer 
door of the cage, a sharp thing, that was sticking in it, 
ran into my hand and I fell down senseless. 

“ I don’t know how long I lay there, but when I 
came to myself, I found the Eagles must have come 
back, and thought me dead, and gone away, for the 
diamond ring was on my little finger ; a great many 
people were watching over me, and amongst them was 
a Rajah, who asked me to go home with him and be 
his wife, and he brought me to this place, and I was 
his Ranee. 

“ But his other wife, the first Ranee, hated me (for 
she was jealous), and desired to kill me; and one day 
she accomplished her purpose by pushing me into the 
tank, for I was young and foolish, and disregarded the 
warnings of my faithful old attendant, who begged me 
not to go near the place. Ah ! if I had only listened 
to her words I might have been happy still.” 

At these words the old attendant, who had been sit- 
ting in the back ground, rushed forward and kissed 
Surya Bai’s feet, crying, “ Ah, my lady ! my lady ! 
have I found you at last!” and, without staying to hear 
more, she ran back to the palace to tell the Rajah the 
glad news. 

Then Surya Bai told her parents how she had not 
wholly died in the tank, but became a sunflower ; and 
how the first Ranee, seeing how fond the Rajah was 
of the plant, had caused it to be thrown away ; and 


127 


Little Surya Bai . 

then how she had risen from the ashes of the sunflower, 
in the form of a mango tree ; and how when the tree 
blossomed all her spirit went into the little mango 
flower, and she ended by saying : “ And when the 
flower became fruit, I know not by what irresistible 
impulse I was induced to throw myself into your milk 
can. Mother, it was my destiny, and as soon as you 
took me into your house, I began to recover my human 
form.” 

“ Why, then,” asked her brothers and sisters, “ why 
do you not tell the Rajah that you are living, and that 
you are the Ranee Surya Bai ?” 

“ Alas,” she answered, “’I could not do that. Who 
knows but that he may be influenced by the first Ranee, 
and also desire my death. Let me rather be poor like 
you, but safe from danger.” 

Then her mother cried, “ Oh, what a stupid woman 
I am ! The Rajah one day came seeking you here, but 
I and your father and brothers drove him away ; for we 
did not know you were indeed the lost Ranee.” 

As she spoke these words a sound of horses’ hoofs 
was heard in the distance, and the Rajah himself ap- 
peared, having heard the good news of Surya Bai’s 
being alive from her old attendant. 

It is impossible to tell the joy of the Rajah at finding 
his long-lost wife, but it was not greater than Surya 
Bai’s at being restored to her husband. 

Then the Rajah turned to the old Milkwoman and 
said, “ Old woman, you did not tell me true, for it was 
indeed my wife who was in your hut.” “ Yes, Pro- 
tector of the Poor,” answered the old Milkwoman, 
“ but it was also my daughter.” Then they told him 
how Surya Bai was the. Milkwoman’s child. 


128 


Old Deccan Days . 


At hearing this the Rajah commanded them all to 
return with him to the palace. He gave Surya Bai’s 
father a village, and ennobled the family ; and he said 
to Surya Bai’s old attendant, “ For the good service 
you have done you shall be palace housekeeper,” and 
he gave her great riches ; adding, “ I can never repay 
the debt I owe you, nor make you sufficient recom- 
pense for having caused you to be unjustly cast into 
prison.” But she replied, “ Sire, even in your anger 
you were temperate ; if you had caused me to be put 
to death, as some would have done, none of this good 
might have come upon you ; it is yourself you have to 
thank.” 

The wicked first Ranee was cast, for the rest of hei 
life, into the prison in which the old attendant had been 
thrown ; but Surya Bai lived happily with her husband 
the rest of her days ; and in memory of her adventures, 
he planted round their palace a hedge of sunflowers 
and a grove of mango trees. 



t 



VII. 


THE WANDERINGS OF VICRAM MAHARAJAH 



HERE was once upon a time a Rajah named 


X Vicram Maharajah,* who had a Wuzeer named 
Butti.f Both the Rajah and his minister were left or- 
phans when very young, and ever since their parents* 
death they had lived together : they were educated to- 
gether, and they loved each other tenderly — like brothers. 

Both were good and kind — no poor man coming to 
the Rajah was ever known to have been sent away dis- 
appointed, for it was his delight to give food and clothes 
to those in need. But whilst the Wuzeer had much 
judgment and discretion, as well as a brilliant fancy, the 
Rajah was too apt to allow his imagination to run away 
with his reason. 

Under their united rule, however, the kingdom pros- 
pered greatly. The Rajah was the spur of every noble 
work, and the Wuzeer the curb to every rash or im- 
practicable project. 

In a country some way from Rajah Vicram’s there 
lived a little Queen, called Anar Ranee (the Pome- 
granate Queen). Her father and mother reigned over 
the Pomegranate country, and for her they had made 
a beautiful garden. In the middle of the garden 
was a lovely pomegranate tree, bearing three large 


* The great King Vicram. t Light. 


129 



130 Old Deccan Days. 

pomegranates. They opened in the centre, and in each 
was a little bed. In one of them Anar Ranee used to 
sleep, and in the pomegranates on either side slept two 
of her maids. 

Every morning early the pomegranate tree would 
gently bend its branches to the ground, and the fruit 
would open, and Anar Ranee and her attendants creep 
out to play under the shadow of the cool tree until the 
evening ; and each evening the tree again bent down to 
enable them to get into their tiny, snug bed-rooms. 

Many princes wished to marry Anar Ranee, for she 
was said to be the fairest lady upon earth : her hair was 
black as a raven’s wing, her eyes like the eyes of a ga- 
zelle, her teeth two rows of exquisite pearls, and her 
cheeks the color of the rosy pomegranate. But her 
father and mother had caused her garden to be hedged 
around with seven hedges made of bayonets, so that 
none could go in or out ; and they had published a 
decree that none should marry her but he who could 
enter the garden and gather the three pomegranates, in 
which she and her two maids slept. To do this, kings, 
princes and nobles innumerable had striven, but striven 
in vain. 

Some never got past the first sharp hedge of bayo- 
nets ; others, more fortunate, surmounted the second, 
the third, the fourth, the fifth, or even the sixth ; but 
there perished miserably, being unable to climb the 
seventh. None had ever succeeded in entering the 
garden. 

Before Vicram Maharajah’s father and mother died, 
they had built, some way from their palace, a very 
beautiful temple. It was of marble, and in the centre 
stood an idol made of pure gold. But in course of time 


''The Wanderings oj Vicram Maharajah. 13 1 

the jungle had grown up round it, and thick straggling 
plants of prickly pear had covered it, so that it was dif- 
ficult even to find out whereabouts it was. 

Then, one day, the Wuzeer Butti said to Vicram 
Maharajah, “ The temple your father and mother built 
at so much pains and cost is almost lost in the jungle, 
and will probably ere long be in ruins. It would be a 
pious work to find it out and restore it.” Vicram Ma- 
harajah agreed, and immediately sent for many work- 
men, and caused the jungle to be cut down and the 
temple restored. All were much astonished to find 
what a beautiful place it was ! ’’"The floor was white 
marble, the walls exquisitely carved in bas-reliefs and 
gorgeously colored, while all over the ceiling was 
painted Vicram Maharajah’s father’s name, and in the 
centre was a golden image of Gunputti, to whom it was 
dedicated. 

The Rajah Vicram was so pleased with the beauty 
of the place that on that account, as well as because of 
its sanctity, he and Butti used to go and sleep there 
every night. 

One night Vicram had a wonderful dream. He 
dreamed his father appeared to him and said, “ Arise, 
Vicram, go to the tower for lights* which is in front 
of this temple. 

(For there was in front of the temple a beautiful tower 
or pyramid for lights, and all the way up it were pro- 
jections on which to place candles on days dedicated to 
the idol ; so that when the whole was lighted it looked 
like a gigantic candlestick, and to guard it there were 
around it seven hedges made of bayonets.) 

u Arise, Vicram, therefore,” said the vision ; u go to 
* See Notes at the end. 


I 3 2 


Old Deccan Days . 


the tower for lights ; below it is a vast amount of 
treasure, but you can only get it in one way without in- 
curring the anger of Gunputti. You must first do in his 
honor an act of very great devotion, which if he gra- 
ciously approve, and consent to preserve your life 
therein, you may with safety remove the treasure.” 

“And what is this act of devotion?” asked Vicram 
Maharajah. 

“ It is this,” (he thought his father answered) : “ You 
must fasten a rope to the top of the tower, and to the 
other end of the rope attach a basket, into which you 
must get head downvterd, then twist the rope by which 
the basket is hung three times, and as it is untwis- 
ting, cut it, when you will fall head downward to the 
earth. 

“ If you fall on either of the hedges of bayonets, you 
will be instantly killed ; but Gunputti is merciful — do 
not fear that he will allow you to be slain. If you es- 
cape unhurt, you will know that he has accepted your 
pious act, and may without danger take the treasure.”* 

The vision faded ; Vicram saw no more, and shortly 
afterward he awoke. 

Then, turning to the Wuzeer, he said, “ Butti, I had 
a strange dream. I dreamed my father counseled me 
to do an act of great devotion ; nothing less than fasten- 
ing a basket by a rope to the top of the tower for lights, 
and getting into it head downward, then cutting the 
rope and allowing myself to fall ; by which having pro- 
pitiated the divinity, he promised me a vast treasure, to 
be found by digging under the tower ! What do you 
think I had better do ?” 

“My advice,” answered the Wuzeer, “ is, if you care 
* See Notes at the end. 


> 



V1CRAM MAHARAJAH.— p. 133. 


I 

































» 








V 













The Wanderings of Vicram Maharajah. 133 

to seek the treasure, to do entirely as your father com- 
manded, trusting in the mercy of Gunputti.” 

So the Rajah caused a basket to be fastened by a 
rope to the top of the tower, and got into it head down- 
ward ; then he called out to Butti, “ How can I cut 
the rope?” “Nothing is easier,” answered he ; “ take 
this sword in your hand. I will twist the rope three 
times, and as it untwists for the first time let the sword 
fall upon it.” Vicram Maharajah took the sword, and 
Butti twisted the rope, and as it first began to untwist, 
the Rajah cut it, and the basket immediately fell. It 
would have certainly gone down among the bayonets, 
and he been instantly killed, had not Gunputti, seeing 
the danger of his devotee, rushed out of the temple at 
that moment in the form of an old woman, who, catch- 
ing the basket in her arms before it touched the bayo- 
nets, brought it gently and safely to the ground*; having 
done which she instantly returned into the temple. 
None of the spectators knew she was Gunputti himself 
in disguise; they only thought “What a clever old 
woman !” 

Vicram Maharajah then caused excavations to be 
made below the tower, under which he found an im- 
mense amount of treasure. There were mountains of 
gold, there were diamonds, and rubies, and sapphires, 
and emeralds, and turquoises, and pearls ; but he took 
none of them, causing all to be sold and the money 
given to the poor, so little did he care for the riches for 
which some men sell their bodies and souls. 

Another day, the Rajah, when in the temple, dreamed 
again. Again his father appeared to him, and this time 
he said, “ Vicram, come daily to this temple and Gun- 
putti will teach you wisdom, and you shall get under- 
12 


134 Deccan Days . 

standing. You may get learning in the world, but 
wisdom is the fruit of much learning and much experi- 
ence, and much love to God and man ; wherefore, 
come, acquire wisdom, for learning perishes, but wis- 
dom never dies.” When the Rajah awoke, he told his 
dream to the Wuzeer, and Butti recommended him to 
obey his father’s counsel, which he accordingly did. 

Daily he resorted to ijie temple and was instructed 
by Gunputti ; and when he had learnt much, one day 
Gunputti said to him, “ I have given you as much wis- 
dom as is in keeping with man’s finite comprehension ; 
now, as a parting gift, ask of me what you will and it 
shall be yours — or riches, or power, or beauty, or long 
life, or health, or happiness — choose what you will 
have?” The Rajah was very much puzzled, and he 
begged leave to be allowed a day to think over the 
matter, ‘and decide what he would choose, to which 
Gunputti assented. 

Now it happened that near the palace there lived the 
son of a Carpenter, who was very cunning, and when 
he heard that the Rajah went to the temple to learn 
wisdom, he also determined to go and see if he could 
not learn it also ; and each day, when Gunputti gave 
Vicram Maharajah instruction, the Carpenter’s son 
would hide close behind the temple, and overhear all 
their conversation ; so that he also became very wise. 
No sooner, therefore, did he hear Gunputti’s offer to 
Vicram than he determined to return again when the 
Rajah did, and find out in what way he was to procure 
the promised gift, whatever it was. 

The Rajah consulted Butti as to what he should ask 
for, saying, “ I have riches more than enough ; I have 
also sufficient oower, and for the rest I had sooner 


The Wanderings of Vicram ^Maharajah. 135 

take my chance with other men, which makes me 
much at a loss to know what to choose.” 

The Wuzeer answered, “ Is there any supernatural 
power you at all desire to possess? If so, ask for that.” 
“ Yes,” replied the Rajah, “ it has always been a great 
desire of mine to have power to leave my own body 
when I will, and translate my soul and sense into some 
other body, either of man or animaL I would rather 
be able to do that than anything else.” “ Then,” said 
the Wuzeer, “ ask Gunputti to give you the power.” 

Next morning the Rajah, having bathed and prayed, 
went in great state to the temple to have his final inter- 
view with the idol. And the Carpenter’s son went too, 
in order to overhear it. 

Then Gunputti said to the Rajah, “ Vicram, what 
gift do you choose ?” “ Oh, diving Power,” answered 

the Rajah, “ you have already given me a sufficiency 
of wealth and power, in making me Rajah ; neither 
care I for more of beauty than I now possess ; and of 
long life, health and happiness I had rather take my 
share with other men. But there is a power which I 
would rather own than all that you have offered.” 

“Name it, O good son of a good father,” said 
Gunputti. 

“Most Wise,” replied Vicram, “ give me the power 
to leave my own body when I will, and translate my 
soul, and sense, and thinking powers into any other 
body that I may choose, either of man, or bird, or 
beast— whether for a day, or a year, or for twelve 
years, or as long as I like ; grant also, that however 
long the term of my absence, my body may not decay, 
but that, when I please to return to it again, I may find 
it still as when I left it.” 


136 Old Deccan Days. 

“Vicram,” answered Gunputti, “your prayer is 
heard,” and he instructed Vicram Maharajah by what 
means he should translate his soul into another body, 
and also gave him something which, being placed 
within his own body when he left it, would preserve it 
from decay until his return.* 

The Carpenter’s son, who had been all this time 
listening outside the temple, heard and learnt the spell 
whereby Gunputti gave Vicram Maharajah power to 
enter into any other body ; but he could not see nor find 
out what was given to the Rajah to place within his 
own body when he left it, to preserve it ; so that he 
was only master of half the secret. 

Vicram Maharajah returned home, and told the 
Wuzeer that he was possessed of the much-desired 
secret. “’Then,” said Butti, “ the best use you can 
put it to is to fly to the Pomegranate country, and 
bring Anar Ranee here.” 

. “ How can that be done ?” asked the Rajah. “ Thus,’* 
replied Butti ; “ transport yourself into the body of a 
parrot, in which shape you will be able to fly over the 
seven hedges of bayonets that surround her garden. 
Go to the tree in the centre of it, bite off the stalks 
of the pomegranates and bring them home in your 
beak.” 

“ Very well,” said the Rajah, and he picked up a 
parrot which lay dead on the ground, and placing 
within his own body the beauty-preserving charm, trans- 
ported his soul into the parrot, and flew off. 

On, on, on he went, over the hills and far away, un- 
tL he came to the garden. Then he flew over the seven 
hedges of bayonets, and with his beak broke off the 
* See Notes at the end. 


The Wanderings of Vicram Maharajah. 137 

three pomegrantes (in which were Anar Ranee and her 
two ladies), and holding them by the stalks brought 
them safely home. He then immediately left the par- 
rot’s body and re-entered his own body. 

When Butti saw how well he had accomplished the 
feat, he said, “ Thank heaven ! there’s some good done 
already.” All who saw Anar Ranee were astonished 
at her beauty, for she was fair as a lotus flower, and the 
color on her cheeks was like the deep rich color of a 
pomegranate, and all thought the Rajah very wise to 
have ch.osen such a wife. 

They had a magnificent wedding, and were for a 
short time as happy as the day is long. 

But within a little while Vicram Maharajah said to 
Butti, “ I have again a great desire to see the world.” 
“ What !” said Butti, “ so soon again to leave your 
home ! So soon to care to go away from your young 
wife !” % 

“ I love her and my people dearly,” answered the 
Rajah ; “ but I cannot but feel that I have this super- 
natural power of taking any form I please, and longing 
to use it.” “ Where and how will you go?” asked the 
Wuzeer. “ Let it be the day after to-morrow,” an- 
swered Vicram Maharajah. “I shall again take the 
form of a parrot, and see as much of the world as pos- 
sible.” 

So it was settled that the Rajah stfould go. He left 
his kingdom in the Wuzeer’s sole charge, and also his 
wife, saying to her, “ I don’t know for how long I may 
be away ; perhaps a day, perhaps a year, perhaps more. 
But if, while I am gone, you should be in any difficulty", 
apply to the Wuzeer. He has ever been like an elder 
brother or a father to me ; do you therefore also regard 


'33 


Old Deccan Days . 


him as a father. I have charged him to take care of 
you as he would of his own child.” 

Having said these words, the Rajah caused a beauti- 
ful parrot to be shot (it was a very handsome bird, with 
a tuft of bright feathers on its head and a ring about 
its neck). He then cut a small incision in his arm and 
rubbed into it some of the magic preservative given 
him by Gunputti to keep his body from decaying, and 
transporting his soul into the parrot’s body, he flew 
away. 

No sooner did the Carpenter’s son hear that the Ra- 
jah was as dead, than, knowing the power of which 
Vicram Maharajah and he were alike possessed, he felt 
certain that the former had made use of it, and deter- 
mined himself likewise to turn it to account. There- 
fore, directly the Rajah entered the parrot’s body, the 
Carpenter’s son entered the Rajah’s body, and the world 
at large imagined that the Rajah had only swooned 
and recovered. But the Wuzeer was wiser than they, 
and immediately thought to himself, u Some one beside 
Vicram Maharajah must have become acquainted with 
this spell, and be now making use of it, thinking it 
would be very amusing to play the part of Rajah for a 
while ; but I’ll soon discover if .this be the case or no.” 

vSo he called Anar Ranee and said to her, “You are 
as well assured as I am that your husband left us but 
now, in the form of a parrot ; but scarcely had he gone 
before his deserted body arose, and he now appears 
walking about, and talking, and as much alive as ever ; 
nevertheless, my opinion is, that the spirit animating 
the body is not the spirit of the Rajah, but that some 
one else is possessed of the power given to him by Gun- 
putti, and has taken advantage of it to personate him. 


The Wanderings of Vicram Maharajah . 139 

But this it would be better to put to the proof. Do, 
therefore, as I tell you, that you may be assured of the 
truth of my words. Make to-day for your husband’s 
dinner some very coarse and common currie, and give 
it to him. If he complains that it is not as good as 
usual, I am making a mistake ; but if, on the contrary, 
he says nothing about it, you will know that my words 
are true, and that he is not Vicram Maharajah.” 

Anar Ranee did as the Wuzeer advised, and after- 
ward came to him and said, “ Father” (for so she 
always called him), “I have been much astonished at 
the result of the trial. I made the currie very care- 
lessly, and it was as coarse and common as possible ; 
but the Rajah did not even complain. I feel convinced 
it is as you say ; but what can we do ?” 

“ We will not,” answered the Wuzeer, “cast him 
into prison, since he inhabits your husband’s body ; but 
neither you, nor any of the Rajah’s relations, must have 
any friendship with, or so much as speak to him ; and 
if he speak to any of you, let whoever it be, imme- 
diately begin to quarrel with him, whereby he will find 
the life of a rajah not so agreeable as he anticipated, 
and may be induced the sooner to return to his proper 
form. 

Anar Ranee instructed all her husband’s relations and 
friends as Butti had advised, and the Carpenter’s son be- 
gan to think the life of a rajah not at all as pleasant as 
he had fancied, and would, if he could, have gladly re- 
turned to his own body again ; but, having no power to 
preserve it, his spirit had no sooner left it than it began 
to decay, and at the end of three days it was quite de- 
stroyed ; so that the unhappy man had no alternative but 
to remain where he was. 


140 Old Deccan Days . 

Meantime, the real Vicram Maharajah had flown, in 
the form of a parrot, very far, far away, until he reached 
a large banyan tree, where there were a thousand other 
petty pollies, whom he joined, making their number a 
thousand and one. Every day the parrots flew away to 
get food, and every night they returned to roost in the 
great banyan tree. 

Now it chanced that a hunter had often gone through 
that part of the jungle, and noticed the banyan tree and 
the parrots, and he said to himself, “ If I could only 
catch the thousand and one parrots that nightly roost in 
that tree, I should not be so often hungry as I am now, 
for they would make plenty of very nice currie.” But 
he could not do it, though he often tried ; for the trunks 
of the tree were tall and straight, and very slippery, so 
that he no sooner climbed up a little way than he slid 
down again : however, he did not cease to look and 
long. 

One day, a heavy shower of rain drove all the par- 
rots back earlier than usual to their tree, and when they 
got there they found a thousand crows who had come 
on their homeward flight to shelter themselves there 
till the storm was over. 

Then Vicram Maharajah Parrot said to the other 
parrots, “ Do you not see these crows have all sorts of 
seeds and fruits in their beaks, which they are carrying 
home to their little ones ? Let us quickly drive them 
away, lest some of these fall down under our tree, 
which, being sown there, will spring up strong plants 
and twine round the trunks, and enable our enemy the 
hunter to climb up with ease and kill us. all.” 

But the other parrots answered, “ That is a very far- 
fetched idea ! Do not let us hunt the poor birds away 


The Wanderings of Vicram Maharajah. 141 

from shelter in this pouring rain, they will get so wet.” 
So the crows were not molested. It turned out, how- 
ever, just as Vicram Maharajah had foretold ; for some 
of the fruits and seeds they were taking home to their 
young ones fell under the tree, and the seeds took root 
and sprang* up, strong creeping plants, which twined 
all round the straight trunks of the banyan tree, and 
made it very easy to climb. 

Next time the hunter came by he noticed this, and 
saying, “ Ah, my fine friends, I’ve got you at last,” he, 
by the help of the creepers, climbed the tree, and set 
one thousand and one snares of fine thread among the 
branches ; having done which he went away. 

That night, when the parrots flew down on the 
branches as usual, they found themselves all caught 
fast prisoners by the feet. 

“ Crick ! crick ! crick !” cried they, “ crick ! crick ! 
crick ! Oh dear ! oh dear ! what shall we do ? what 
can we do? Oh, Vicram Maharajah, you were right 
and we were wrong. Oh dear ! oh dear ! crick ! crick ! 
crick !” 

Then Vicram said, “ Did I not tell you how it would 
be ? But do as I bid you, and we may yet be saved. 
So soon as the hunter comes to take us away, let every 
one hang his head down on one side, as if he were 
dead ; then, thinking us dead, he will not trouble him- 
self to wring our necks, or stick the heads of those he 
wishes to keep alive through his belt, as he otherwise 
would ; but will merely release us, and throw us on 
the ground. Let each one when there, remain per- 
fectly still, till the whole thousand and one are set free, 
and the hunter begins to descend the tree; then we 
will all fly up over his head and far out of sight.” 


142 


Old Deccan Days . 


The parrots agreed to do as Vicram Maharajah 
Parrot proposed, and when the hunter came next 
morning to take them awa)', every one had his eyes 
shut and his head hanging down on one side, as if he 
were dead. Then the hunter said, u All dead, indeed ! 
Then I shall have plenty of nice currie.” ^And so say- 
ing, he cut the noose that held the first, and threw him 
down. The parrot fell like a stone to the ground, so 
did the second, the third, the fourth, the fifth, the sixth, 
the seventh, the eighth, the ninth, the tenth, and so 
on — up to the thousandth parrot. Now the thousandth 
and first chanced to be none other than Vicram ; all 
were released but he. But, just as the hunter was 
going to cut the noose round his feet, he let his knife 
fall, and had to go down and pick it up again. When 
the thousand parrots who were on the ground, heard 
him coming down, they thought, “ The thousand and 
one are all released, and here comes the hunter ; it is 
time for us to be off.” And with one accord they flew 
up into the air and far out of sight, leaving poor Vicram 
Maharajah still a prisoner. 

The hunter, seeing what had happened, was very 
angry, and seizing Vicram, said to him, u You wretch- 
ed bird ! it’s you that have worked all this mischief. 1 
know it must be, for you are a stranger here, and dif- 
ferent to the other parrots. I’ll strangle you, at all 
events — that I will.” But to his surprise, the parrot 
answered him, “ Do not kill me. What good will that 
do you ? Rather sell me in the next town. I am very 
handsome. You will get a thousand gold mohurs* 
for me.” 

“ A thousand gold mohurs !” answered the hunter, 
* About $7,500. 


The Wanderings of Vicram Maharajah . 143 

much astonished. “ You silly b ; rd, who’d be so foolish 
as to give a thousand gold mohurs for a parrot?” 
“ Never mind,” said Vicram, “ only take me and 
try.” 

So the hunter took him into the town, crying “Who'll 
buy? who’ll buy? Come buy this pretty polly that can 
talk so nicely. See how handsome he is — see what a 
great red ring he has round his neck. Who’ll buy > 
who’ll buy ?” 

Then several people asked how much he would take 
for the parrot ; but when he said a thousand gold mo- 
hurs, they all laughed and went away, saying “None 
but a fool would give so much for a bird.” 

At last the hunter got angry, and he said to Vicram, 
“ I told you how it would be. I shall never be able to 
sell you.” But he answered, “ Oh yes, you will. See 
here comes a merchant down this way ; I dare say he 
will buy me.” So the hunter went to the merchant 
and said to him, “ Pray, sir, buy my pretty parrot.” 
“ How much do you want for him ?” asked the mer- 
chant — “two rupees?”* “No, sir,” answered the 
hunter ; “ I cannot part with him for less than a thou- 
sand gold mohurs.” “ A thousand gold mohurs !” 
cried the merchant, “ a thousand gold mohurs ! I never 
heard of such a thing in my life ! A thousand gold 
mohurs for one little wee polly ! Why, with that sum 
you might buy a house, or gardens, or horses,' or ten 
thousand yards of the best cloth. Who’s going to give 
you such a sum for a parrot? Not I, indeed. I’ll give 
you two rupees and no more.” But Vicram called 
out, “Merchant, merchant, do not fear to buy me. I 
am Vicram Maharajah Parrot. Pay what the hunter 
* About $1. 


*44 


Old. Deccan Days . 


asks, and I will repay it to you — buy me only, and I 
will keep your shop.” 

“ Polly,” answered the merchant, “ what nonsense 
you talk !” But he took a fancy to the bird, and paid 
the hunter a thousand gold mohurs, and taking Vicram 
Maharajah home, hung him up in his shop. 

Then the Parrot took on him the duties of shopman, 
and talked so much and so wisely that every one in 
the town soon heard of the merchant’s wonderful bird. 
Nobody cared to go to any other shop — all came to his 
shop, only to hear the Parrot talk ; and he sold them 
what they wanted, and they did not care how much he 
charged for what he sold, but gave him whatever he 
asked ; insomuch, that in one week the merchant had 
made a thousand gold mohurs over and above his usual 
weekly profits ; and there Vicram Maharajah Parrot 
lived for a long time, made much of by everybody, and 
very happy. 

It happened in the town where the merchant lived 
there was a very accomplished Nautch girl,* named 
Champa Ranee.f She danced so beautifully that the 
people of the town used always to send for her to dance 
on the occasion of any great festival. 

There also lived in the town a poor wood-cutter, 
who earned his living by going out far into the jungle* 
to cut wood, and bringing it in every day, into the 
bazaar to sell. 

One day he went out as usual into the jungle to cut 
wood, and being tired, he fell asleep under a tree and 
began to dream ; and he dreamed that he was a very 

* Dancing girl. 

t The Champa Queen. “The Champa” ( Michelia cham * 
paca) is a beautiful, sweet-scented yellow flower. 


The Wanderings of Vicram Maharajah . 145 

rich man, and that he married the beautiful Nautch 
girl, and that he took her home to his house, and gave 
his wife, as a wedding present, a thousand gold 
mohurs ! 

When he went into the bazaar that evening as usual 
to sell wood, he began telling his dream to his friends, 
saying, “ While I was in the jungle I had such an ab- 
surd dream ; I dreamed that I was a rich man, and 
that I married the Champa Ranee, and gave her as a 
wedding present a thousand gold mohurs !” “ What 

a funny dream 1” they cried, and thought no more of 
it. 

But it happened that the house under which he was 
standing whilst talking to his friends was Champa 
Ranee’s house, and Champa Ranee herself was near 
the window, and heard what he said, and thought to 
herself, “For all that man looks so poor, he has then 
a thousand gold mohurs, or he would not have dreamed 
of giving them to his wife ; if that is all, I’ll go to law 
about it, and see if I can’t get the money.” 

So she sent out her servants and ordered them to 
catch the poor wood-cutter ; and when they caught 
him, she began crying out, “ Oh husband ! husband ! 
here have I been waiting ever so long, wondering 
What has become of you ; where have you been all this 
time?” He answered, “I’m sure I don’t know what 
you mean. You’re a great lady and I’m a^poor wood- 
cutter ; you must mistake me for somebody else.” 

But she answered, “ Oh no ! don’t you remember we 
were married on such and such a day ! Have you for- 
gotten what a grand wedding it was, and you took me 
home to your palace, and promised to give me as a 
wedding present a thousand gold mohurs? But you 
13 G 


146 


Old Deccan Days . 


quite forgot to give me the money, and you went away, 
and I returned to my father’s house till I could learn 
tidings of you ; how can you be so cruel ?” 

The poor wood-cutter thought he must be dreaming, 
but all Champa Ranee’s friends and relations declared 
that what she said was true. Then, after much quar- 
reling, they said they would go to law about it ; but 
the judge could not settle the matter, and referred it to 
the Rajah himself. The Rajah was no less puzzled 
than the judge. The wood-cutter protested that he 
was only a poor wood-cutter ; but Champa Ranee and 
her friends asserted that he was, on the contrary, a rich 
man, her husband, and had had much money, which 
he must have squandered. She offered, however, to 
give up all claim to that, if he would only give her a 
thousand gold mohurs, which he had promised ; and so 
suggested a compromise. The wood-cutter replied 
that he would gladly give the gold mohurs if he had 
them ; but that (as he brought witnesses to prove) he 
was really and truly what he professed to be — only a 
poor wood-cutter, who earned two annas* a day cut- 
ting wood, and had neither palace nor riches nor wife 
in the world ! The whole city was interested in this 
curious case, and all wondered how it would end ; 
some being sure one side was right, and some equally 
certain of the other. 

The Rajah could make nothing of the matter, and 
at last he said : “I hear there is a merchant in this town 
who has a very wise parrot, wiser than most men are ; 
let him be sent for to decide this business, for it is be- 
yond me ; we will abide by his decision.” 

So Vicram Maharajah Parrot was sent for, and 
* Six cents. 


The Wanderings of Vicram Maharajah. 147 

placed in the court of justice, to hear and judge the 
case. 

First h-e said to the wood-cutter, “Tell me your ver- 
sion of the story.” And the wood-cutter answered, 
“ Polly, Sahib, what I tell is true. I am a poor man. 
I live in the jungle, and earn my living by cutting 
wood and selling it in the bazaar. I never get more 
than two annas a day. One day I fell asleep and 
dreamed a silly dream — how I had become rich and 
married the Champa Ranee, and had given her as a 
wedding present a thousand gold mohurs ; but it is no 
more true that I owed her a thousand gold mohurs, or 
have them to pay, than that I married her. 

“ That is enough,” said Vicram Maharajah. “ Now, 
dancing girl, tell us your story.” And Champa 
Ranee gave her version of the matter. Then the Par- 
rot said to her, “ Tell me now where was the house of 
this husband of yours, to which he took you ?” “ Oh !” 
she answered ; “ very far away, I don’t know how far, 
in the jungles.” “ How long ago was it?” asked he. 
“ At such and such a time,” she replied. Then he 
called credible and trustworthy witnesses, who proved 
that Champa Ranee had never left the city at the time 
she mentioned. After hearing whom, the Parrot said 
to her, “Is it possible that you can have the folly to 
think any one" would believe that you would leave your 
rich and costly home to go a long journey into the 
jungle ? It is now satisfactorily proved that you did 
not do it; you had better give up all claim to the 
thousand gold mohurs.” 

But this the Nautch girl would not do. The Par- 
rot then called for a money-lender, and begged of him 
the loan of a thousand gold mohurs, which he placed 


148 


Old Deccan Days . 


in a great bottle, putting the stopper in, and sealing it 
securely down ; he then gave it to the Nautch girl, and 
said, “ Get this money if you can, without breaking the 
seal or breaking the bottle.” She answered, “ It can- 
not be done.” “ No more,” replied Vicram Mahara- 
jah, “ can what you desire be done. You cannot force 
a poor man, who has no money in the world, to pay 
you a thousand gold mohurs. 

“ Let the prisoner go free ! Begone, Champa Ranee. 
Dancing girl! you are a liar and a thief; go rob .the 
rich if you will, but meddle no more with the poor.” 

All applauded Vicram Maharajah Parrot’s decision, 
and said, “Was ever such a wonderful bird!” But 
Champa Ranee was extremely angry, and said to him, 
“ Very well, nasty polly ; nasty, stupid polly ! be as- 
sured before long I will get you in my power, and 
when I do, I will bite off your head !” 

“ Try your worst, madam,” answered Vicram ; “ but 
in return, I tell you this — I will live to make you a 
beggar. Your house shall be, by your own order, laid 
even with the ground, and you for grief and rage shall 
kill yourself.” 

“Agreed,” said Champa Ranee ; “we will soon see 
whose words come true — mine or yours and so say- 
ing, she returned home. 

The merchant took Vicram Maharajah back to his 
shop, and a week passed without adventure ; ' a fort- 
night passed, but still nothing particular happened. 
At the end of this time the merchant’s eldest son was 
married, and in honor of the occasion, the merchant 
ordered that a clever dancing-girl should be sent for, to 
dance before the guests. Champa Ranee came, and 
danced so beautifully that every one was delighted , 


The Wanderings of Vicrarn Maharajah. 149 

and the merchant was much pleased, and said to her, 
“ You have done your work very well, and in payment 
you may choose what you like out of my shop or 
house, and it shall be yours — whether jewels or rich 
cloth, or whatever it is.” 

She replied, “ I desire nothing of the kinder of jewels 
and rich stuffs I have more than enough, but you shall 
give me your pretty little parrot ; I like it much, and 
that is the only payment I will take.” 

The merchant felt very much vexed, for he had 
never thought the Nautch girl would ask for the parrot 
which he was so fond of, and which had been so profit- 
able to him ; he felt he would rather have parted with 
anything he possessed than that ; nevertheless, having 
promised, he was bound to keep his w r ord, so, with 
many tears, he went to fetch his favorite. But Polly 
cried, “ Don’t be vexed, master ; give me to the girl ; I 
can take good care of myself.” 

So Champa Ranee took Vicrarn Maharajah Parrot 
home with her ; and no sooner did she get there than 
she sent for one of her maids, and said, “ Quick, take 
this parrot and boil him for my supper ; but first cut 
off his head and bring it to me on a plate, grilled ; for 
I will eat it before tasting any other dish.” 

“What nonsensical idea is this of our mistress,” said 
the maid to another, as she took the parrot into the 
kitchen ; “ to think of eating a grilled parrot’s head !” 
“ Never mind,” said the other ; “ you’d better prepare 
it as she bids you, or she’ll be very cross.” Then the 
maid who had received the order began plucking the 
long feathers out of Vicrarn Maharajah’s wings, he all 
the time hanging down his head, so that she thought he 
was dead. Then, going to fetch some water in which 
13 * 


Old Deccan Days . 


150 

to boil him, she laid him down close to the place where 
they washed the dishes. Now, the kitchen was on the 
ground floor, and there was a hole right through the 
wall, into which the water used in washing the dishes 
ran, and through which all the scraps, bones, peelings 
and parings were washed away after the daily cooking ; 
and in this hole Vicram Maharajah hid himself, quick 
as thought. 

“ Oh dear ! oh dear !” cried the maid when she re- 
turned. “ What can I % do ? what will my mistress say? 
I only turned my back for one moment, and the parrot’s 
gone.” “ Very likely,” answered the other maid, 
“ some cat has taken it away. It could not have been 
alive, and flown or run away, or I should have seen 
it go ; but never fear, a chicken will do very well for 
her instead.” 

Then they took a chicken and boiled it, and grilled 
the head and took it to their mistress ; and she eat it, 
little bit by little bit, saying as she did so — 

“ Ah, pretty polly ! so here’s the end of you ! This 
is the brain that thought so cunningly and devised my 
overthrow ! this is the tongue that spoke against me ! 
this is the throat through which came the threatening 
words ! Aha ! who is right now, I wonder ?” 

Vicram, in the hole close by, heard her and felt very 
much alarmed ; for he thought, “ If she should catch 
me after all !” He could not fly away, for all his wing 
feathers had been pulled out ; so there he had to stay 
some time, living on the scraps that were washed into 
the hole in the washing of the plates, and perpetually 
exposed to danger of being drowned in the streams of 
water that were poured through it. At last, however 
his new feathers were sufficiently grown to bear him 


The Wandering's of Vicram Maharajah . 15 1 

and he flew away to a little temple in the jungle some 
way off, where he perched behind the idol. 

It happened that Champa Ranee used to go to that 
temple, and he had not been there long before she came 
there to worship her idol. 

She fell on her knees before the image, and began to 
pray. Her prayer was that the god would transport 
her body and soul to heaven (for she had a horror of 
dying), and she cried, “ Only grant my prayer — only 
let this be so, and I will do. anything you wish — any- 
thing — anything.” 

Vicram Maharajah was hidden behind the image and 
heard her, and said — 

“ Champa Ranee Nautch girl, your prayer is heard !” 
(She thought the idol himself was speaking to her, and 
listened attentively.) “ This is what you must do : sell 
all you possess, and give the money to the poor ; you 
must also give money to all your servants and dismiss 
them. Level also your house to the ground, that you 
may be wholly separated from earth. Then you will 
be fit for heaven. Come, having done all I command 
you, on this day week to this place, and you shall be 
transported thither body and soul.” 

Champa Ranee believed what she heard, and for- 
getful of Vicram Maharajah Parrot’s threat, hastened 
to do as she was bidden. She sold her possessions, 
and gave all the money to the poor ; razed her house 
to the ground, and dismissed her servants ; which being 
accomplished, on the day appointed she went to the 
temple, and sat on the edge of a well outside it, ex- 
plaining to the assembled people how the idol himself 
had spoken to her, and how they would shortly see her 
caught up to heaven, and thus her departure from the 


*52 


Old Deccan Days . 


world would be even more celebrated than her doings 
whilst in it. All the people listened eagerly to her 
words, for they believed her inspired, and to see her 
ascension the whole city had come out, with hundreds 
and hundreds of strangers and travelers, princes, mer- 
chants and nobles, from far and near, all full of expec- 
tation and curiosity. • 

Then, as they waited, a fluttering of little wings was 
heard, and a parrot flew over Champa Ranee’s head, 
calling out, “ Nautch girl! Nautch girl! what have 
you done?” Champa Ranee recognized the voice as 
Vicram’s ; he went on : “ Will you go body and soul 
to heaven ? have you forgotten polly’s words ?” 

Champa Ranee rushed into the temple, and, falling 
on her knees before the idol, cried out, “ Gracious 
Power, I have done all as you commanded ; let your 
words come true ; save me ; take me to heaven.” 

But the Parrot above her cried, “ Good-bye, Champa 
Ranee, good-bye ; you ate a chicken’s head, not mine. 
Where is your house now ? where your servants and 
all your possessions? Have my words come true, 
think you, or yours ?” 

Then the woman saw all, and in her rage and de- 
spair, cursing her own folly, she fell violently down on 
the floor of the temple, and dashing her head against 
the stone, killed herself. 

It was now two years since the Rajah Vicram left 
nis kingdom ; and about six months before, Butti, in 
despair of his ever returning, had set out to seek for 
him. Up and down through many countries had he 
gone, searching for his master, but without success. 
As good fortune would have it, however, he chanced 
to be one of those strangers who had come to witness 


The Wanderings of Vicram Maharajah. 153 

the Nautch girl’s translation, and no sooner did he see 
the Parrot which spoke to her than in him he recog- 
nized Vicram. The Rajah also saw him, and flew on 
to his shoulder, upon which Butti caught him, put him 
in a cage and took him home. 

Now was a puzzling problem to be solved. The 
Rajah’s soul was in the Parrot’s body, and the Carpen- 
ter’s son’s soul in the Rajah’s body. How was the 
the latter to be expelled to make way for the former? 
He could not return to his own body, for that had 
perished long before. The Wuzeer knew not how to 
manage the matter, and determined therefore to await 
the course of events. 

It happened that the pretended Rajah and Butti each 
had a fighting ram, and one day the Rajah said to the 
Wuzeer, “ Let us set our rams to fight to-day, and try 
the strength of mine against yours.” “ Agreed,” an- 
swered the Wuzeer ; and they set them to fight. But 
there was much difference in the two rams ; for when 
Butti’s ram was but a lamb, and his horns were grow- 
ing, Butti had tied him to a lime tree, and his horns 
had got very strong indeed by constantly rubbing 
against its tender stem and butting against it ; but the 
Carpenter’s son had tied his ram, when a lamb, to a 
young teak tree, the trunk of which was so stout and 
strong that the little creature, butting against it, coidd 
make no impression on it, but only damaged and 
loosened his own horns. 

The pretended Rajah soon saw, to his vexation, that 
his favorite’s horns being less strong than its oppo- 
nent’s, he was getting tired, and beginning to lose 
courage, would certainly be worsted in the fight ; so, 
quick as thought, he left his own body and transported 


154 Ptd Deccan Days . 

his soul into the ram’s body, in order to give it an 
increase of courage and resolution, and enable it to 
win. 

No sooner did Vicram Maharajah, who was hanging 
up in a cage, see what had taken place, than he left the 
parrot’s body and re-entered his own body. Then 
Butti’s ram pushed the other down on its knees and 
the Wuzeer ran and fetched a sword, and cut off its 
head ; thus putting an end, with the life of the ram, to 
the life of the Carpenter’s son. 

Great was the joy of Anar Ranee and all the house- 
hold at recovering the Rajah after his long absence ; 
and Anar Ranee prayed him to fly away no more as a 
parrot, which he promised her he would not do. 

But the taste for wandering and love of an unsettled 
life did not leave him on his resuming his proper form ; 
and one of the things in which he most delighted was 
to roam about the jungles near the palace by himself, 
without attendant or guide. One very sultry day, 
when he was thus out by himself, he wandered over a 
rocky part of the country, which was flat and arid, 
without a tree upon it to offer shelter from the burning 
sun. Vicram, tired with his walk, threw himself down 
by the largest piece of rock he could find to rest. As 
he lay there, half asleep, a little Cobra came -out of a 
hole in the ground, and seeing his mouth wide open 
(which looked like some shady cranny in a rock), crept 
in and curled himself up in the Rajah’s throat. 

Vicram Maharajah called out to the Cobra, u Get 
out of my throat.” But the Cobra said, “ No, I won’t 
go ; I like being here better then under ground and 
there he stayed. Vicram didn’t know what tc do, for 
the Cobra lived in his throat and could not be got out. 


The Wanderings of Vicram Maharajah. 155 

At times it would peep out of his mouth, but the mo- 
ment the Rajah tried to catch it, it ran back again. 

“ Who ever heard of a Rajah in such a miserable 
plight?” sighed he to Butti — u to think of having this 
Cobra in my throat !” 

“ Ah, my dear friend,” Butti would answer, “ why 
will you go roaming about the country by yourself? 
Will you never be cured of it?” 

“ If one could only catch this Cobra, I’d be content 
to wander no more,” said the Rajah, “ for my wander- 
ing has not brought me much good of late.” But to 
catch the Cobra was more than any man could do. At 
last, one day, Vicram, driven nearly mad in this per- 
plexity, ran away into the jungle. Tidings of this were 
soon brought to Butti, who was much grieved to hear 
it, and sighed, saying, “ Alas ! alas ! of what avail to 
Vicram Maharajah is his more than human wisdom, 
when the one unlucky self-chosen gift neutralizes all the 
good he might do with it ! It has given him a love of 
wandering hither and thither, minding everybody’s 
business but his own ; his kingdom is neglected, his 
people uncared for, and he, that used to be the pride of 
all Rajahs, the best, the noblest, has finally slunk out 
of his country, like a thief escaping from jail.” 

Butti sent messengers far and wide seeking Vicram 
Maharajah, but they could not find him ; he then deter- 
mined to go himself in search of his lost friend ; and 
having made proper arrangements for the government 
of the country during his absence, he set off on his travels. 

Meantime Vicram wandered on and on until at last,- 
one day, he came to the palace of a certain Rajah, who 
reigned over a country very far from his own, and he 
sat down with the beggars at the palace gate. 


Old Deccan Days. 


Now, the Rajah at whose gate Vicram Maharajah 
sat had a good and lovely daughter, named Buccoulee.* 
Many Princes wished to marry this Princess, but she 
would marry none of them. Her father and mother 
said to her, u Why will you not choose a husband ? 
Among all these Princes who ask you in marriage 
there are many rich and powerful — many handsome 
and brave — many wise and good ; why will you refuse 
them all ?” The Princess replied, “ It is not my destiny 
to marry any of them ; continually in my dreams I see 
my destined husband, and I wait for him.” u Who is 
he?” they asked. “ His name,” she answered, “ is the 
Rajah Vicram ; he will come from a very far country ; 
he has not come yet.” They replied, “ There is no 
Rajah, far or near, that we know of, of this name ; 
give over this fancy of yours and marry some one 
else.” 

But she constantly refused, saying, “ No, I will wait 
for the Rajah Vicram.” Her parents thought, “ It may 
be even as she says. Who knows but perhaps some 
day a great King, greater than any we know, may come 
to this country and wish to marry the girl ; we shall 
then be glad that we had not obliged her to many any 
of her present suitors ?” 

No sooner had Vicram Maharajah come to the 
palace gate, and sat down there with the beggars, than 
the Princess Buccoulee, looking out of the window, 
saw him and cried, “ There is the husband I saw in my 
dreams ; there is the Rajah Vicram.” “ Where, child, 
where?” said her mother; “there’s no Rajah there; 
only a parcel of beggars.” 

But the Princess persisted that one of them was the 
* Said to mean some sort of water-plant. 


The Wanderings of Vicram Maharajah . 157 

Rajah Vicram. Then the Ranee sent for Vicram Ma- 
harajah and questioned him. 

He said his name was “ Rajah Vicram.” But the 
Rajah and Ranee did not believe him ; and they were 
very angry with the Princess because she persisted in 
saying that he, and no other, would she marry. At last 
they got so enraged with her that they said, “Well, 
marry your beggar husband, if you will, but don’t think 
to remain any longer our daughter after becoming his 
wife ; if you marry him it shall be to follow his fortunes 
in the jungle ; we shall soon see you repent your ob- 
stinacy.” 

“ I will marry him and follow him wherever he goes,” ^ 
said the Princess. 

So Vicram Maharajah and the Princess Buccoulee 
were married, and her parents turned her out of the 
’house ; nevertheless, they allowed her a little money. 

“ For” they said, “ she will fast enough find the differ- 
ence between a king’s daughter and a beggar’s wife, 
without wanting food.” 

Vicram built a little hut in the jungle, and there they 
lived ; but the poor Princess had a sad time of it, for 
she was neither accustomed to cook nor wash, and the 
hard work tired her very much. Her chief grief, how- 
ever, was that Vicram should have such a hideous tor- 
menter as the Cobra in his throat ; and often and often 
of a night she sat awake, trying to devise some means 
for catching it, but all in vain. 

At last, one night, when she was thinking about it, 
she saw close by two Cobras come out of their holes, 
and as they began to talk, she listened to hear what 
they would say. 

“ Who are these people ?” said the first Cobra. 

14 


i 5 8 


Old Deccan Days. 


“ These,” said the second, “ are the Rajah Vicram, and 
his wife the Princess Buccoulee.” “ What are they doing 
here ? why is the Rajah so far from his kingdom ?” asked 
the first Cobra. 

“ Oh, he ran away because he was so miserable ; he 
has a Cobra that lives in his throat,” answered the 
second. 

“ Can no one get it out?” said the first. 

“No,” replied the other; “because they do not 
know the secret.” “What secret?” asked the first 
Cobra. “ Don’t you know?” said the second ; “why, 
if his wife only took a few marking nuts,* and 
pounded them well, and mixed them in cocoa-nut oil, 
and set the whole on fire, and hung the Rajah, her 
husband, head downward up in a tree above it, the 
smoke, rising upward, would instantly kill the Cobra 
in his mouth, which would tumble down dead.” 

“ I never heard of that before,” said the first Cobra. 

“Didn’t you?” exclaimed the second. “Why, if 
they did the same thing at the mouth of your hole, 
they’d kill you in no time ; and then, perhaps, they 
might find all the fine treasure you have there !” 
“ Don’t joke in that way,” said the first Cobra ; “ I 
don’t like it and he crawled away quite offended, and 
the second Cobra followed him. 

No sooner had the Princess heard this than she de- 
termined to try the experiment. So next morning she 
sent for all the villagers living near (who all knew and 
loved her, and would do anything she told them, be- 
cause she was the Rajah’s daughter), and bade them 
take a great cauldron and fill it with cocoa-nut oil, and 
pound down an immense number of marking nuts and 
*Semecarj>tis anacardium. 


The Wanderings of Vicram Maharajah. 159 

throw them into it, and then bring the cauldron to her. 
They did so, and she set the whole on fire, and caused 
Vicram to be hung up in a tree overhead ; and as soon 
as the smoke from the cauldron rose in the air it suffo- 
cated the Cobra in Vicram Maharajah’s throat, whicn 
fell down quite dead. Then the Rajah Vicram said to 
his wife, “ O worthy Buccoulee ! what a noble woman 
you are ! You have delivered me from this torment, 
which was more than all the wise men in my kingdom 
could do.” 

Buccoulee then caused the cauldron of oil to be 
placed close to the hole of the first Cobra, which she 
had heard speaking the night before, and he was suffo- 
cated. 

She then ordered the people to dig him out of his 
hole, and in it they found a vast amount of treasure — 
gold, silver and jewels. Then Buccoulee sent for royal 
robes for herself and her husband, and bade him cut 
his hair and shave him ; and when they were all ready, 
she took the remainder of the treasure and returned 
with it to her father’s house ; and her father and mother, 
who had repented of their harshness, gladly welcomed 
her back, and were both surprised and delighted to see 
all the vast treasures she had, and what a handsome, 
princely-looking man her husband was. 

Then one day news was brought to Vicram that a 
stranger Wuzeer had arrived in the palace as the 
Rajah’s guest, and that this Wuzeer had for twelve 
years been wandering round the world in search of his 
master, but, not having found him, was returning to his 
own home. Vicram thought to himself, “ Can this 
possibly be Butti ?” and he ran to see. 

It was indeed Butti, who cried for joy to see him, 


i6o 


Old Deccan Days . 


saying, “ Oh Vicram, Vicram ! do you know it is 
twelve years since you left us all ?” 

Then Vicram Maharajah told Butti how the good 
Princess Buccoulee had married him and succeeded in 
killing the Cobra, and how he was then on the point of 
returning to his own country. So they all set out to- 
gether, being given many rich presents by Buccoulee’s 
father and mother. At last after a long, long journey, 
they reached home. Anar Ranee was overjoyed to see 
them again, for she had long mourned her husband as 
dead. When Buccoulee Ranee was told who Anar 
Ranee was and taken to see her, she felt very much fright- 
ened, for she thought, “ Perhaps she will be jealous of 
me and hate me.” But with a gentle smile Anar Ranee 
came to meet her, saying, “ Sister, I hear it is to you we 
owe the preservation of the Rajah, and that it was you 
who killed the Cobra ; I can never be sufficiently 
grateful to you, nor love you enough, as long as I 
live.” 

From that day Vicram Maharajah stayed in his own 
kingdom, ruling it wisely and well, and beloved by all. 
He and Butti lived to a good old age, and their affec- 
tion for each other lasted as long as they lived. So 
that it became a proverb it that country, and instead of 
saying, “ So-and-so love each other like brothers” 
(when speaking of two who were much attached), the 
people would say, “ So-and-so love each other like the 
Rajah and the Wuzee r ” 



VIII. 


LESS INEQUALITY THAN MEN DEEM. 
YOUNG Rajah once said to his Wuzeer, “How 



JT\. is it that I am so often ill ? I take care of my- 
self ; I never go out in the rain ; I wear warm clothes ; 
I eat good food. Yet I am always catching cold or 
getting fever, in spite of all precautions.” 

“ Overmuch care is worse than none at all,” answered 
the Wuzeer, “ which I will soon prove to you.” 

So he invited the Rajah to accompany him for a 
walk in the fields. Before they had gone very far they 
met a poor Shepherd. The Shepherd was accustomed 
to be out all day long, tending his flock ; he had only a 
coarse cloak on, which served but insufficiently to pro- 
tect him from the rain and the cold — from the dews by 
night and the sun by day ; his food was parched corn, 
his drink water; and he lived out in the fields in a 
small hut made of plaited palm branches. The Wu- 
zeer said to the Rajah, “You know perfectly well 
what hard lives these poor shepherds lead. Accost 
this one, and ask him if he often suffers from the expo- 
sure which he is obliged to undergo.” 

The Rajah did as the Wuzeer told him, and asked 
the Shepherd whether he did not often suffer from 
14 * , 161 



162 


Old Deccan Days. 

rheumatism, cold and fever. The Shepherd answered, 
“ Perhaps it will surprise you, sire, to hear that I never 
suffer from either the one or the other. From child 
hood I have been accustomed to endure the extremes 
of heat and cold, and I suppose that is why they never 
affect me.” 

At this the Rajah was very much astonished, and he 
said to the Wuzeer, “ I own I am surprised ; but 
doubtless this Shepherd is an extraordinarily strong 
man, whom nothing would ever affect.” “We shall 
see,” said the Wuzeer ; and he invited the Shepherd to 
the palace. There, for a long time, the Shepherd was 
taken great care of ; he was never permitted to go out 
in the sun or rain, he had good food and good clothes, 
and he was not allowed to sit in a draught or get his 
feet wet. At the end of some months the Wuzeer sent 
for him into a marble courtyard, the floor of which he 
caused to be sprinkled with water. 

The Shepherd had been for some time so little used 
to exposure of any kind that wetting his feet caused 
him to take cold ; the place felt to him chilly and damp 
after the palace ; he rapidly became worse, and in a 
short time, in spite of all the doctors’ care, he died. 
“ Where is our friend the Shepherd?” asked the Rajah, 
a few days afterward ; “ he surely could not have 
caught cold merely by treading on the marble floor you 
had caused to be sprinkled with water?” 

“Alas!” answered the Wuzeer, “the result was 
more disastrous than I had anticipated ; the poor Shep- 
herd caught cold and is dead. Having been lately 
accustomed to overmuch care, the sudden change of 
temperature killed him. 


Less Inequality than Men Dee?n. 163 

“ You see now to what dangers we are exposed from 
which the poor are exempt. It is thus that Nature 
equalizes her best gifts ; wealth and opulence tend too 
frequently to destroy health and shorten life, though 
they may give much enjoyment to it whilst it lasts.” 




IX. 


PANCH-PHUL RANEE. 
CERTAIN Rajah had two wives, of whom he 



ii preferred the second to the first ; the first Ranee 
had a son, but, because he was not the child of the 
second Ranee, his father took a great dislike to him, 
and treated hirr^ so harshly that the poor boy was very 
unhappy. 

One day, therefore, he said to his mother : “ Mother, 
my father does not care for me, and my presence is 
only a vexation to him. I should be happier anywhere 
than here ; let me therefore go and seek my fortune in 
other lands.” 

So the Ranee asked her husband if he would allow 
their son to travel. He said, “ The boy is free to go, 
but I don’t see how he is to live in any other part of 
the world, for he is too stupid to earn his living, and I 
will give him no money to squander on senseless plea- 
sures.” Then the Ranee told her son that he had his 
father’s permission to travel, and said to him, “You 
are going out into the world now to try your luck ; take 
with you the food and clothes I have provided for your 
journey.” And she gave him a bundle of clothes and 
several small loaves, and in each loaf she placed a 
gold mohur, that on opening it, he might find money 
as well as food inside ; and he started on his journey. 


164 


Panch-Phul Ranee. 


1^5 

When the young Rajah had traveled a long way, 
and left his father’s kingdom far behind, he one day 
came upon the outskirts of a great city, where (instead 
of taking the position due to his rank, and sending to 
inform the Rajah of his arrival) he went to a poor 
Carpenter’s house, and begged of him a lodging for the 
night. The Carpenter was busy making wooden clogs 
in the porch of his house, but he looked up and nodded, 
saying, “ Young man, you are welcome to any assist- 
ance a stranger may need and we can give. If you are 
in want of food, you will find my wife and daughter in 
the house : they will be happy to cook for you.” The 
Rajah went inside and said to the Carpenter’s daughter, 
“ I am a stranger, and have traveled a long way ; I am 
both tired and hungry : cook me some dinner as fast as 
you can, and I will pay you for your trouble.” She 
answered, u I would willingly cook you some dinner at 
once, but I have no wood to light the fire, and the 
jungle is some way off.” “ It matters not,” said the 
Rajah ; “ this will do to light the fire, and I’ll make 
the loss good to your father ;” and taking a pair of new 
clogs which the Carpenter had just finished making, he 
broke them up and lighted the fire with them. 

Next morning he went into the jungle, cut wood, 
and, having made a pair of new clogs — better than 
those with which he had lighted the fire the evening 
before — placed them with the rest of the goods for sale 
in the Carpenter’s shop. Shortly afterward, one of the 
servants of the Rajah of that country came to buy a 
pair of clogs for his master, and seeing these new ones, 
said to the Carpenter, “Why, man, these clogs are 
better than all the rest put together. I will take none 
other to the Rajah. I wish you would always make 


1 66 


Old Deccan Days. 


such clogs as these.” And throwing down ten gold 
mohurs on the floor of the hut, he took up the clogs 
and went away. 

The Carpenter was much surprised at the whole 
business. In the first place, he usually received only 
two or three rupees for each pair of clogs ; and in the 
second, he knew that these which the Rajah’s servant 
had judged worth ten gold mohurs had not been made 
by him ; and how they had come there he could not 
think, for he felt certain they were not with the rest of 
the clogs the night before. He thought and thought, 
but the more he thought about the matter the more puz- 
zled he got, and he went to talk about it to his wife and 
daughter. Then his daughter said, “ Oh, those must 
have been the clogs the stranger made !” And she told 
her father how he had lighted the fire the night before 
with two of the clogs which were for sale, and had 
afterward fetched wood from the jungle and made an- 
other pair to replace them. 

The Carpenter at this news was more astonished than 
ever, and he thought to himself, “ Since this stranger 
seems a quiet, peaceable sort of man, and can make 
clogs so well, it is a great pity he should leave this 
place : he would make a good husband for my daugh- 
ter and, catching hold of the young Rajah, he pro- 
pounded his scheme to him. (But all this time he had 
no idea that his guest was a Rajah.) 

Now the Carpenter’s daughter was a very pretty girl 
— as pretty as any Ranee you ever saw ; she was also 
good-tempered, clever, and could cook extremely well. 
So when the Carpenter asked the Rajah to be his son-in- 
law, he looked at the father, the mother and the girl, 
and thinking to himself that many a better man had a 


Panch-Phul Ranee . 


167 

worse fate, he said, “ Yes, I will marry your daughter, 
and stay here and make clogs.” So the Rajah married 
the Carpenter’s daughter. 

This Rajah was very clever at making all sorts of 
things in wood. When he had made all the clogs he 
wished to sell next day, he would amuse himself in 
making toys ; and in this way he made a thousand 
wooden parrots. They were as like real parrots as 
possible. They had each two wings, two legs, two 
eyes and a sharp beak. And when the Rajah had 
finished them all, he painted and varnished them and 
put them one afternoon outside the house to dry. 

Night came on, and with it came Parbuttee and 
Mahdeo,* flying round the world to see the different 
races of men. Amongst the many places they visited 
was the city where the Carpenter lived ; and in the 
garden in front of the house they saw the thousand 
wooden parrots which the Rajah had made and painted 
and varnished, all placed out to dry. Then Parbuttee 
turned to Mahdeo, and said, u These parrots are very 
well made — they need nothing but life. Why should 
not we give them life?” Mahdeo answered, “What 
would be the use of that ? It would be a strange freak, 
indeed !” “ Oh,” said Parbuttee, “ I only meant you to 
do it as an amusement. It would be so funny to see the 
wooden parrots flying about ! But do not do it if you 
don’t like.” “You would like it then?” answered 
Mahdeo. “ Very well, I will do it.” And he endowed 
the thousand parrots with life. 

Parbuttee and Mahdeo then flew away. 

Next morning the Rajah got up early to see if the 

* The god Mahdeo is an incarnation of Siva the Destroyer. 
The goddess Parbuttee is his w ife. 


Old Deccan Days. 


1 68 

varnish he had put on the wooden parrots was dry ; but 
no sooner did he open the door . than — marvel of mar- 
vels ! — the thousand wooden parrots all came walking 
into the house, flapping their wings and chattering to 
each other. 

Hearing the noise, the Carpenter and the Carpenter’s 
wife and daughter came running out to see what was 
the matter, and were not less astonished than the Rajah 
himself at the miracle 'fdiich had taken place. Then 
the Carpenter’s wife turned to her son-in-law, and said, 
“ It is all very well that you should have made these 
wooden parrots ; but I don’t know where we are to find 
food for them ! Great, strong parrots like these will eat 
not less than a pound of rice a-piece every day. Your 
father-in-law and I cannot afford to procure as much as 
that for them in this poor house. If you wish to keep 
them, you must live elsewhere, for we cannot provide 
for you all.” 

u Very well,” said the Rajah; “you shall not have 
cause to accuse me of ruining you, for from henceforth 
I will have a house of my own.” So he and his wife 
went to live in a house of their own, and he took the 
thousand parrots with him, and his mother-in-law gave 
her daughter some corn and rice and money to begin, 
housekeeping with. Moreover, he found that the par- 
rots, that instead of being an expense, were the means 
of increasing his fortune ; for they flew away every 
morning early to get food, and spent the whole day out 
in the fields ; and every evening, when they returned 
home, each parrot brought in his beak a stalk of corn 
or rice, or whatever it had found good to eat. So that 
their master was regularly supplied with more food 
than enough ; and what with selling what he did not 


Panch-Phul Ranee. 169 

require, and working at his trade, he soon became quite 
a rich carpenter. 

After he had been living in this way very happily 
for some time, one night, when he fell asleep, the 
Rajah dreamed a wonderful dream, and this was the 
dream : 

He thought that very, very far away beyond the Red 
Sea was a beautiful kingdom surrounded by .seven 
other seas ; and that it belonged to a Rajah and Ranee 
who had one lovely daughter, named Panch-Phul Ranee 
(the Five Flower Queen), after whom the whole king- 
dom was called Panch-Phul Ranee’s country ; and that 
this Princess lived in the centre of her father’s kingdom, 
in a little house round which were seven wide ditches, 
and seven great hedges made of spears ; and that she 
was called Panch-Phul Ranee because she was so light 
and delicate that she weighed no more than five white 
lotus flowers ! Moreover, he dreamed that this Prin- 
cess had vowed to marry no one who could not cross 
the seven seas, and jump the seven ditches, and seven 
hedges made of spears. 

After dreaming this the young Rajah awoke, and 
feeling much puzzled, got up, and sitting with his head 
in his hands, tried to think the matter over and discover 
if he had ever heard anything like his dream before ; 
but he could make nothing of it. 

Whilst he was thus thinking, his wife awoke and 
asked him what was the matter. He told her, and she 
said, “ That is a strange dream. If I were you, I’d 
ask the old parrot about it ; he is a wise bird, and per- 
haps he knows.” This parrot of which she spoke was 
the most wise of all the thousand wooden parrots. The 
Rajah took his wife’s advice, and when all the birds 
15 • H 


170 


Old Deccan Days . 


came home that evening, he called the old parrot and 
told him his dream, saying, “Can this be true?” To 
which the parrot replied, *'• It is all true. The Panch- 
Phul Ranee’s country lies beyond the Red Sea, and is 
surrounded by seven seas,, and she dwells in a house 
built in the centre of her father’s kingdom. Round her 
house are seven ditches, and seven hedges made of 
spear§, and she has vowed not to marry any man who 
cannot jump these seven ditches and seven hedges ; 
and because she is very beautiful many great and noble 
men have tried to do this, but in vain. 

“ The Rajah and Ranee, her father and mother, are 
very fond of her and proud of her. Every day she goes 
to the palace to see them, and they weigh her in a pair 
of scales. They put her in one scale and five lotus flowers 
in the other, and she’s so delicate and fragile she weighs 
no heavier than the five little flowers, so they call her the 
Panch-Phul Ranee. Her father and mother are very 
proud of this.” 

“ I should like to go to that country and see the Panch- 
Phul Ranee,” said the Rajah ; “ but I don’t know how 
I could cross the seven seas.” “ I will show you how 
to manage th^t,” replied the old parrot. “ I and another 
parrot will fly close together, I crossing my left over his 
right wing ; so that we will move along as if we were one 
bird (using only our outside wings to fly with), and on 
the chair made of our interlaced wings you shall sit, and 
we will carry you safely across the seven seas. On the 
way we will every evening alight in some high tree and 
rest, and every morning we can go on again.” “ That 
sounds a good plan ; I have a great desire to try it,” said 
the Rajah. “ Wife, what should you think of my going 
to the Panch-Phul Ranee’s country, and seeing if I can 


Panch-Phul Ranee. 


* 7 * 

jump the seven ditches, and seven hedges made of spears . 
Will you let me try?” 

“ Yes,” she answered. “ If you like to go and marry 
her, go ; only take care that you do not kill yourself ; 
and mind you come back some day.” And she prepared 
food for him to take with him, and took off her gold and 
silver bangles, which she placed in a bundle of warm 
things, that he might be in need neither of money nor 
clothes on the journey. He then charged the nine hun- 
dred and ninety-eight parrots he left behind him to bring 
her plenty of corn and rice daily (that she might never 
need food while he was away), and took her to the house 
of her father, in whose care she was to remain during 
his absence ; and he wished her good-bye, saying, “Do 
not fear but that I will come back to you, even if I do 
win the Panch-Phul Ranee, for you will always be my 
first wife, though you are the Carpenter’s daughter.” 

The old parrot and another parrot then spread their 
wings, on which the Rajah seated himself as on a chair, 
and rising up in the air, they flew away with him out 
of sight. 

Far, far, far they flew, as fast as parrots can fly, over 
hills, over forests, over rivers, over valleys, on, on, on, 
hour after hour, day after day, week after week, only 
staying to rest every night when it got too dark to see 
where they were going. At last they reached the seven 
seas which surrounded the Panch-Phul Ranee’s country. 
When once they began crossing the seas they could not 
rest (for there was neither rock nor island on which to 
alight), so they were obliged to fly straight across them ; 
night and day, until they gained the shore. 

By reason of this the parrots were too exhausted on 
their arrival to go as far as the city where the Rajah, 


172 


Old Deccan Days . 


Panch-Phul Ranee’s father, lived, but thev flew down to 
rest on a beautiful banyan tree, which grew not far from 
the sea, close to a small village. The Rajah determined 
to go into the village and get food and shelter there 
He told the parrots to stay in the banyan tree till his 
return ; then, leaving his bundle of clothes and most of 
his money in* their charge, he set off on foot toward 
the nearest house. 

After a little while he reached a Malee’s cottage, and 
giving a gold mohur to the Malee’s wife, got her to 
provide him with food and shelter for the night. 

Next morning he rose early, and said to his hostess, 
“ I am a stranger here, and know nothing of the place. 
What is the name of your country ? ” “ This,” she said, 

“ is Panch-Phul Ranee’s country.” 

“ And what is the last news in your town ? ” he asked. 
“Very bad news indeed,” she replied. “You must 
know our Rajah has one only daughter — a most beauti- 
ful Princess — and her name is Panch-Phul Ranee, for 
she is so light and delicate that she weighs no heavier 
than five lotus flowers. After her this whole country is 
called Panch-Phul Ranee’s country. She lives in a small 
bungalow* in the centre of the city you see yonder ; 
but, unluckily for us, she has vowed to marry no man 
who cannot jump on foot over the seven hedges made 
of spears, and across the seven great ditches that sur- 
round her house. This cannot be done, Babamah ! f 
I don’t know how many hundreds of thousands cf 
Rajahs have tried to do it and died in the attempt! 
Yet the Princess will not break her vow. Daily, worse 
and worse tidings come from the city of fresh people 
having been killed in trying to jump the seven hedges 
* House. f Oh, my child. 


Panch-Phul Ranee . 


x 73 


and seven ditches, and I see no end to the misfortunes 
that will arise from it. Not only are so many brave 
men lost to the world, but, since the Princess will marry 
no one who does not succeed in this, she stands a chance 
of not marrying at all ; and if that be so, when the 
Rajah dies there will be no one to protect her and claim 
the right to succeed to the throne. All the nobles will 
probably fight for the Raj, and the. whole kingdom be 
turned topsy-turvy.” 

“ Mahi,”* said the Rajah, “ if that is all there is to 
do, I will try and win your Princess, for I can jump 
right well.” 

“ Baba,”f answered the Malee’s wife, “ do not think 
of such a thing; are you mad? I tell you, hundreds 
of thousands of men have said these words before, and 
been killed for their rashness. What power do you 
think you possess to succeed where all before you have 
failed? Give up all thought of this, for it is utter 
folly.” 

“ I will not do it,” answered the Rajah, “before going 
to consult some of my friends.” 

So he left the Malee’s cottage, and returned to the 
banyan tree to talk over the matter with the parrots ; 
for he thought they would be able to carry him on their 
wings across the seven ditches and seven hedges made 
of spears. When he reached the tree the old parrot 
6aid to him, “ It is two days since you left us ; what 
news haTe you brought from the village ? ” The Rajah 
answered, “The Panch-Phul Ranee still lives in the 
house surrounded by the seven ditches, and seven hedges 
made of spears, and has vowed to marry no man who 
cannot jump over them ; but cannot you parrots, who 
* Woman or mother. t Child. 


r 74 


Old Deccan Days . 


brought me all the way over the seven seas, carry me 
on your wings across these great barriers ? ” 

“You stupid man!” answered the old parrot; “of 
course we could ; but what would be the good of doing 
so? If we carried you across, it would not be at all 
the same thing as your jumping across, and the Prin- 
cess would no more consent to marry you than she 
would now; for she has vowed to marry no one who 
has not jumped across on foot. If you want to do the 
thing, why not do it yourself, instead of talking non- 
sense. Have you forgotten how, when you were a lit- 
tle boy, you were taught to jump by conjurors and 
tumblers (for the parrot knew all the Rajah’s history) ? 
Now is the time to put their lessons in practice. If 
you can jump the seven ditches, and seven hedges 
made of spears, you will have done a good work, and 
be able to marry the Panch-Phul Ranee ; but if not, 
this is a thing in which we cannot help you.” 

“ You reason justly,” replied the Rajah. “ I will 
try to put in practice the lessons I learnt when a boy ; 
meantime, do you stay here till my return.” 

So saying, he went away to the city, which he 
reached by nightfall. Next morning early he went to 
where the Princess’ bungalow stood, to try and jump 
the fourteen great barriers. He was strong and agile, 
and he jumped the seven great ditches, and six of the 
seven hedges made of spears ; but in running to jump 
the seventh hedge he hurt his foot, and, stumtfling, fell 
upon the spears and died — run through and through 
with the cruel iron spikes. 

When Panch-Phul Ranee’s father and mother got up 
that morning and looked out, as their custom was, to- 
ward their daughter’s bungalow, they saw something 


Panch-Phul Ranee . 


175 


transfixed upon the seventh hedge of spears, but what it 
was they could not make out, for it dazzled their eyes. 
So the Rajah called his Wuzeer and said to him, u For 
some days I have seen no one attempt to jump the 
seven hedges and seven ditches round Panch-Phul 
Ranee’s bungalow ; but what is that which I now see 
upon the seventh hedge of spears?” The Wuzeer an- 
swered, “ That is a Rajah’s son, who has failed like all 
who have gone before him.” “ But how is it,” asked 
the Rajah, “ that he thus dazzles our eyes?” 

“ It is,” replied the Wuzeer, u because he is so beau- 
tiful. Of all that have died for the sake of Panch- 
Phul Ranee, this youth is, beyond doubt, the hand- 
somest.” “ Alas !” cried the Rajah, “ how many and 
how many brave men has my daughter killed? I will 
have no more die for her. Let us send her and the 
dead man together away into the jungle.” 

Then he ordered the servants to fetch the young 
Rajah’s body. There he lay, still and beautiful, with 
a glory shining round him as the moonlight shines 
round the clear bright moon, but without a spark of life. 

When the Rajah saw him, he said, “ Oh pity, pity, 
that so brave and handsome a boy should have come 
dying after this girl ! Yet he is but one of the thou- 
sands of thousands who have died thus to no purpose. 
Pull up the spears and cast them into the seven ditches, 
for they shall remain no longer.” 

* Then he commanded two palanquins to be prepared 
and men in readiness to carry them, and said, “ Let 
the girl be married to the young Rajah, and let both be 
taken far away into the jungle, that we may never see 
them more. Then there will be quiet in the land 
again.” 


176 


Old Deccan Days . 


The Ranee, Panch-Phul Ranee’s mother, cried bit- 
terly at this, for she was very fond of her daughter, and 
she begged her husband not to send her away so 
cruelly — the living with the dead ; but the Rajah was 
inexorable. “ That poor boy died,” he said : “ let my 
daughter die too. I’ll have no more men killed here/ 

So the two palanquins were prepared. Then he 
placed his daughter in the one, and her dead husband 
in the other, and said to the palkee-bearers, “ Take 
these palkees and go out into the jungle until you have 
reached a place so desolate that not so much as a spar- 
row is to be seen, and there leave them both.” 

And so they did. Deep down in the jungle, where 
no bright sun could pierce the darkness, nor human 
voice be heard, far from any habitation of man or 
means of supporting life, on the edge of a dank, stag- 
nant morass that was shunned by all but noisome rep- 
tiles and wandering beasts of prey, they set them down 
and left them, the dead husband and the living wife, 
alone to meet the horrors of the coming night — alone, 
without a chance of rescue. 

Panch-Phul Ranee heard the bearers’ retreating foot- 
steps, and their voices getting fainter and fainter in the 
distance, and felt that she had nothing to hope for 
but death. 

Night seemed coming on apace, for though the sun 
had not set, the jungle was so dark that but little light 
pierced the gloom ; and she thought she would take £ 
last look at the husband her vow had killed, and sitting 
beside him wait till starvation should make her as he 
was, or some wild animal put a more speedy end to 
her sufferings. 

She left her palkee and went toward his. There 


Panch-Phul Ranee . 


T 77 


he lay with closed eyes and close-shut lips : black cur- 
ling hair, which escaped from under his turban, con- 
cealed a ghastly wound on his temple. There was no 
look of pain on the face, and the long, sweeping eye- 
lashes gave it such a tender, softened expression she 
could hardly believe that he was dead. He was, in 
truth, very beautiful ; and watching him she said to 
herself, “ Alas, what a noble being is here lost to the 
world ! what an earth’s joy is extinguished ! Was it 
for this that I was cold, and proud, and stern — to break 
the cup of my own happiness and to be the death of 
such as you ? Must you now never know that you won 
your wife ? Must you never hear her ask your pardon 
for the past, nor know her cruel punishment? Ah, if 
you had but lived, how dearly I would have loved you ! 
Oh my husband ! my husband !” And sinking down 
on the ground, she buried her face in her hands and 
cried bitterly. 

While she was sitting thus night closed ovei the 
jungle, and brought with it wild beasts that had left 
their dens and lairs in search of prey — to roam about, 
as the heat of the day was over. Tigers, lions, ele- 
phants and bison, all came by turns crushing through 
the underwood which surrounded the place where the 
palkees were, but they did no harm to Panch-Phul 
Ranee, for she was so fair that not even the cruel 
beasts of the forest would injure her. At last, about 
four o’clock in the morning, all the wild animals had 
gone, except two little jackals, who had been very busy 
watching the rest and picking the bones left by the 
tigers. Tired with running about, they lay down to 
rest close to the palkees. Then one little jackal said 
to the other, who was her husband, “ Do tell me a 
H* 


178 


Old Deccan Days . 


little story.” “ Dear me !” he exclaimed, “ what people 
you women are for stories! Well, look just in front 
of you ; do you see those two ?” “ Yes,” she answered ; 

“what of them?” “ That woman you see sitting on 
the ground,” he said, “ is the Panch-Phul Ranee.” 
“ And what son of a Rajah is the man in the palkee ?” 
asked she. “ That,” he replied, “ is a very sorrowful 
son. His father was so unkind to him that he left his 
own home, and went to live in another country very far 
from this ; and there he dreamed about the Panch-Phul 
Ranee, and came to our land in order to marry her, 
but he was killed in jumping the seventh hedge of 
spears, and all he gained was to die for her sake.” 

“ That is very sad,” said the first little jackal ; “ but 
could he never by any chance come to life again?” 
“ Yes,” answered the other ; “ may be he could, if only 
some one knew how to apply the proper remedies.” 
“ What are the proper remedies, and how could he be 
cured ?” asked the lady jackal. (Now all this conver- 
sation had been heard by Panch-Phul Ranee, and when 
this question was asked she listened very eagerly and 
attentively for the answer.) 

“ Do you see this tree ?” replied her husband. “ Well, 
if some of its leaves were crushed, and a little of the 
juice put into the Rajah’s two ears and upon his upper 
lip, and some upon his temples also, and some upon 
the spear-wounds in his side, he would come to life 
again and be as well as ever.” 

At this moment day dawned, and the two little 
jackals ran away. Panch-Phul Ranee did not forget 
their words. She, a Princess born, who had never put 
her foot to the ground before (so delicately and ten- 
derly had she been reared), walked over the rough 


Panch-Phul Ranee . 179 

clods of earth and the sharp stones till she reached the 
place where the tree grew of which the jackals had 
spoken. She gathered a number of its leaves, and, 
with hands and feet that had never before done coarse 
or common work, beat and crushed them down. They 
were so stiff and strong that it took her a long time. 
At last, after tearing them, and stamping on them, and 
pounding them between two stones, and biting the 
hardest parts, she thought they were sufficiently 
crushed ; and rolling them up in a corner of her saree, 
she squeezed the juice through it on to her husband’s 
temples,' and put a little on his upper lip and into his 
ears, and some also on the spear-wound in his side. 
And when she had done this, he awoke as if he had 
been only sleeping, and sat up, wondering where he 
was. Before him stood Panch-Phul Ranee shining 
like a glorious star, and all around them was the dark 
jungle. 

It would be hard to say which of them was the most 
astonished — the Rajah or the Princess. She was sur- 
prised that the remedy should have taken such speedy 
effect, and could hardly believe her eyes when she saw 
her husband get up. And if he looked beautiful when 
dead, much more handsome did he seem to her now, 
so full of life and animation and power — the picture of 
health and strength. And he in his turn was lost in 
amazement at the exquisite loveliness of the lady who 
stood before him. He did not know who she could be, 
for he had never seen her like except in a dream. 
Could she be really the world-renowned Panch-Phul 
Ranee, or was he dreaming still ? He feared to move 
lest he should break the spell. But as he sat there 
wondering, she spoke, saying, “You marvel at what 


i8o 


Old Deccan Days . 


has taken place. You do not know me — I am Panch- 
Phul Ranee, your wife.” 

Then he said, “ Ah, Princess, is it indeed you? You 
have been very hard to me.” “ I know, I know,” she 
answered ; “I caused your death, but I brought you to 
life again. Let the past be forgotten ; come home 
with me, and my father and mother will welcome you 
as a son.” 

He replied, “No, I must first return to my own 
home a while. Do you rather return there now with 
me, for it is a long time since I left it, and afterward 
we will come again to your father’s kingdom.” 

To this Panch-Phul Ranee agreed. It took them, 
however, a long time to find their way out of the 
jungle. At last they succeeded in doing so, for none 
of the wild animals in it attempted to injure them, so 
beautiful and royal did they both look. 

When they reached the banyan tree, where the 
Rajah had left the two parrots, the old parrot called 
out to him, “So you have come back at last! We 
thought you never would, you were such a long time 
away! There you went, leaving' us here all the time, 
and after all doing no good, but only getting yourself 
killed. Why didn’t you do as we advised you, and 
jump up nicely?” 

“Well, I’m sure,” said the Rajah, “yours is a hard 
case ; but I beg your pardon for keeping you waiting 
so long, and now I hope you’ll take me and my wife 
home.” 

“Yes, we will do that,” answered the parrots ; “ but 
you had better get some dinner first, for it’s a long 
journey over the seven seas.” 

So the Rajah went to the village close by and bought 


Panch-Phul Ranee. 181 

food for himself and the Panch-Phul Ranee. When 
he returned with it, he said to her, “I fear the long 
journey before us for you : had you not better let me 
make it alone, and return here for you when it is over?” 
But she answered, “ No ! what could I, a poor, weak 
woman, do here alone? and I will not return to my 
father’s house till you can come too. Take me with 
you, however far you go ; only promise me you will 
never leave me.” So he promised her, and they both, 
mounting the parrots, were carried up in the air across 
the seven seas, across the Red Sea, on, on, on, a whole 
year’s journey, until they reached his father’s kingdom, 
and alighted to rest at the foot of the palace garden. 
The Rajah, however, did not know where he was, for 
all had much changed since he left it some years 
before. 

Then a little son was born to the Rajah and Panch- 
Phul Ranee. He was a beautiful child, but his father 
was grieved to think that in that bleak place there was 
no shelter for the mother or the baby. So he said to 
his wife, “ I will go to fetch food for us both, and fire 
to cook it with, and inquire what this country is, and 
seek out a place of rest for you. Do not be afraid ; I 
shall soon return.” Now, far off in the distance smcke 
was to be seen rising from tents which belonged to 
some' conjurors and dancing-people, and thither the 
Rajah bent his steps, feeling certain he should be able 
to get fire, and perhaps food also, from the inhabitants. 
When he got there, he found the place was much 
larger than he had expected — quite a good-sized village 
in fact — the abode of Nautch-people and conjurors. 
In all the houses the people were busy, some dancing, 
some singing, others trying various conjuring tricks or 
16 


1 82 Old Deccan Days . 

practising beating the drum, and all seemed happy and 
joyful. 

When the conjurors saw him, they were so much 
struck with his appearance (for he was very handsome) 
that they determined to make him, if possible, stay 
among them and join their band. And they said one 
to another, “ How well he would look beating the 
drum for the dancers ! All the world would come to 
see us dance, if we had such a handsome man as that 
to beat the drum.” 

The Rajah, unconscious of their intentions, went into 
the largest hut he saw, and said to a woman who was 
grinding corn, “ Bai,* give me a little rice, and some 
fire from your hearth.” She immediately consented, 
and got up to fetch the burning sticks he asked for ; 
but before she gave them to him, she and her com- 
panions threw upon them a certain powder, containing 
a very potent charm ; and no sooner did the Rajah re- 
ceive them than he forgot about his wife and little child, 
his journey, and all that had ever happened to him in 
his life before ; such was the peculiar property of the 
powder. And when the conjurors said to him, “ Why 
should you go away? stay with us, and be one of us,” 
he willingly consented to do so. 

All this time Panch-Phul Ranee waited and waited 
for her husband, but he never came. Night approached 
without his having brought her any food or news of 
having found a place of shelter for her and the baby. 
At last, faint and weary, she swooned away. 

It happened that that very day the Ranee (Panch- 
Phul Ranee’s husband’s mother) lost her youngest child, 
a fine little boy of only a day old ; and her servants 
* Woman. 


Panch-Phul Ranee. 183 

took its body to the bottom of the garden to bury it. 
Just as they were going to do so, they heard a low cry, 
and, looking round, saw close by a beautiful woman 
lying on the ground, dead, or apparently so, and beside 
her a fine little baby boy. The idea immediately 
entered their heads of leaving the dead baby beside the 
dead woman, and taking her living baby back with 
them to the palace ; and so they did* 

When they returned, they said to their mistress, “ Your 
child did not die ; see here it is — it got well again,” and 
showed her Panch-Phul Ranee’s baby ; but after a time, 
when the Ranee questioned them about it, they told her 
the whole truth, but she had become meanwhile very 
fond of the little boy, and so he continued in the palace 
and was brought up as her son ; being, in truth, her 
grandson, though she did not know it. 

Meantime the palace Malee’s wife went out, as her 
custom was every morning, and evening, to gather 
flowers. In search of them she wandered as far as the 
jungle at the bottom of the garden, and there she found 
the Panch-Phul Ranee lying as dead, and the dead 
baby beside her. 

The good woman felt very sorry, and rubbed the 
Ranee’s cold hands and gave her sweet flowers to smell, 
in hopes that she might revive. At last she opened her 
eyes, and seeing the Malee’s wife, said, “ Where am I ? 
has not my husband come back ? and who are you ?” 

“My poor lady,” answered the Malee’s wife, “ I do 
not know where your husband is. I am the Malee’s 
wife, and coming here to gather flowers, I found you 
lying on the ground, and this your little baby, which is 
dead ; but come home with me, I will take care of you.” 

Panch-Phul Ranee answered, “ Kind friend, this is 


Old Deccan Days. 


1S4 

not my baby ; he did not die ; he was the image of his 
father, and fairer than this child. Some one must have 
taken him away, for but a little while ago I held him 
in my arms, and he was strong and well, while this 
one could never have been more than a puny, weakly 
infant. Take me away ; I will go home with you.” 

So the Malee’s wife buried the dead child and took 
the Panch-Phul Ranee to her house, where she lived 
for fourteen years ; but all that time she could learn no 
tidings of her husband or her lost little boy. The child, 
meanwhile, grew up in the palace, and became a very 
handsome youth. One day he was wandering round 
the garden and chanced to pass the Malee’s house. 
The Panch-Phul Ranee was sitting within, watching 
the Malee’s wife cook their dinner. 

The young Prince saw her, and calling the Malee’s 
wife, said to her, “ What beautiful lady is that in your 
house ? and how did she come there ?” She answered, 
“ Little Prince, what nonsense you talk ! there is no 
lady here.” He said again, “ I know there is a beauti- 
ful lady here, for I saw her as I passed the open door.” 
She replied, “ If you come telling such tales about my 
house, I’ll pull your tongue out.” For she thought to 
herself, “ Unless I scold him well, the boy’ll go talking 
about what he’s seen in the palace, and then perhaps 
some of the people from there will come and take the 
poor Panch-Phul Ranee away from my care.” But 
whilst the Malee’s wife was talking to the young Prince, 
the Panch-Phul Ranee came from the inner room to 
Watch and listen to him unobserved ; and no sooner did 
she see him than she could not forbear crying out, “ Oh, 
how like he is to my husband ! The same eyes, the 
same shaped face and the same king-like bearing ! Can 


t 


Panch-Phul Ranee . 185 

He be my son ? He is just the age my son would have 
been had he lived.” 

The young Prince heard her speaking and asked 
what she said, to which the Malee’s wife replied, “The 
woman you saw, and who just now spoke, lost her 
child fourteen years ago, and she was saying to herself 
how like you were to that child, and thinking you must 
be the same ; but she is wrong, for we know you are the 
Ranee’s son.” Then Panch-Phul Ranee herself came 
out of the house, and said to him, “ Young Prince, I 
could not, when I saw you, help exclaiming how like 
you are to what my lost husband was, and to what my 
son might have been ; for it is now fourteen years since 
I lost them both.” And she told him how she had been 
a great Princess, and was returning with her husband 
to his own home (to which they had got halfway in 
reaching that place), and how her little baby had been 
born in the jungle, and her husband had gone away to 
seek shelter for her and the child, and fire and food, 
and had never returned ; and also how, when she had 
fainted away, some one had certainly stolen her baby 
and left a dead child in its place ; and how the good 
Malee’s wife had befriended her, and taken her ever 
since to live in her house. And when she had ended 
her story she began to cry. 

But the Prince said to her, “ Be of good cheer ; I will 
endeavor to recover your husband and child for you : 
who knows but I may indeed be your son, beautiful 
lady?” And running home to the Ranee (his adopted 
mother), he said to her, “Are you really my mother? 
Tell me truly ; for this I must know before the sun goes 
down.” “Why do you ask foolish questions?” she 
replied; “have I not always treated you as a son?” 

16 * 


1 86 


Old Deccan Days. 


“ Yes,” he said ; “ but tell me the very truth, am I youi 
own child, or the child of some one else, adopted as 
yours ? If you do not tell me, I will kill myself.” And 
so saying, he drew his sword. She replied, “ Stay, stay, 
and I will tell you the whole truth : the day before you 
were born I had a little baby, but it died ; and my ser- 
vants took it to the bottom of the garden to bury it, and 
there they found a beautiful woman lying as dead, and 
beside her a living infant. You were that child. They 
brought you to the palace, and I adopted you as my son, 
and left my baby in your stead.” “ What became of 
my mother? ” he asked. “ I cannot tell,” answered the 
Ranee ; u for, two days afterward, when I sent to the 
same place, she and the baby had both disappeared, and 
I have never since heard of her.” 

The young Prince, on hearing this, said, “ There is 
in the head Malee’s house a beautiful lady, whom the 
Malee’s wife found in the jungle, fourteen years ago ; 
that must be my mother. Let her be received here this 
very day with all honor, for that is the only reparation 
that can now be made to her.” 

The Ranee consented, and the young Prince went 
down to the Malee’s house himself to fetch his mother 
to the palace. 

With him he took a great retinue of people, and a 
oeautiful palanquin for her to go in, covered with rich 
trappings ; also costly things for her to wear, and many 
jewels and presents for the good Malee’s wife. 

When Panch-Phul Ranee had put on her son’s gifts, 
and come out of the Malee’s poor cottage to meet him, 
all the people said there had never been so royal-looking 
a queen. As gold and clear crystal are lovely, as 
mother-of-pearl is exquisitely fair and delicate-looking, 


Panch-Phul Ranee. 187 

so beautiful, so fair, so delicate appeared Panch-Phu 1 
Ranee. 

Her son conducted her with much pomp and state to 
the palace, and did all in his power to honor her ; and 
there she lived long very happily, and beloved by all. 

One day the young Prince begged her to tell him 
again, from the beginning, the story of her life, and as 
much as she knew of his father’s life ; and so she did. 
And after that, he said to her, “ Be no longer sad, dear 
mother, regarding my father’s fate ; for I will send into 
all lands to gather tidings of him, and maybe in the 
end we shall find him.” And he sent people out to 
hunt for the Rajah all over the kingdom, and in all 
neighboring countries — to the north, to the south, to the 
east and to the west — but they found him not. 

At last (after four years of unsuccessful search), when 
there seemed no hope of ever learning what had become 
of him, Panch-Phul Ranee’s son came to see her, and 
said, “Mother, I have sent into all lands seeking my 
father, but can hear no news of him. If there were 
only the slightest clue as to the direction in which he 
went, there would still be some chance of tracing him, 
but that, I fear, cannot be got. Do you not remember 
his having said anything of the way which he intended 
to go when he left you ? ” She answered, “ When your 
father went away, his words to me were, ‘ I will go to 
fetch food for us both, and fire to cook it with, and 
inquire what this country is, and seek out a place of 
shelter for you. Do not be afraid — I shall soon return.’ 
That was all he said, and then he went away, and I 
never saw him more.” 

“ In what direction did he go from the foot of the 
garden ? ” asked the Prince. “ He went,” answered the 


1 88 Old Deccan Days. 

Panch-Phnl Ranee, “ toward that village of conjurors 
close by. I thought he was intending to ask some of 
them to give us food. But had he done so, he would 
certainly have returned in a very short time. ,, 

u Do you think you should know my father, mother 
darling, if you were to see him again ?” asked the 
Prince. “ Yes,” answered she, “ I should know him 
again.” “ What ! ” he said, “ even though eighteen 
years have gone by since you saw him last? Even 
though age and sickness and want had done their 
utmost to change him?” “Yes!” she replied; “his 
every feature is so impressed on my heart that I should 
know him again anywhere or in any disguise.” 

“ Then let us,” he said, “ send for all those people 
in the direction of whose houses he went away. Maybe 
they have detained him among them to this day. It is 
but a chance, but we can hope for nothing more certain.” 

So the Panch-Phul Ranee and her son sent down 
orders to the conjurors’ village that every one of the 
whole band should come up to the palace that after- 
noon — not a soul was to stay behind. And the dancers 
were to dance and the conjurors to play all their tricks 
for the amusement of the palace inmates. 

The people came. The nautch girls began to dance — 
running, jumping and flying here, there and everywhere, 
some up, some down, some round and round. The con- 
jurors conjured and all began in different ways to amuse 
the company. Among the rest was one wild, ragged- 
looking man, whose business was to beat the drum. 
No sooner did the Panch-Phul Ranee set eyes on him 
than she said to her son, “ Boy, that is your father ! ” 
“ What, mother ! ” he said, “ that wretched-looking man 
who is beating the drum ? ” “ The same,” she answered. 


Panch-Phul Ranee. 189 

The Prince said to his servants, “ Fetch that man 
here.” And the Rajah came toward them, so changed 
that not even his own mother knew him — no one re- 
cognized him but his wife. For eighteen years he had 
been’ among the nautch people ; his hair was rough, his 
beard untrimmed, his face thin and worn, sunburnt and 
wrinkled ; he wore a nose-ring and heavy ear-rings, 
such as the nautch people have ; and his dress was a 
rough, common cumlee.* All traces of his former self 
seemed to have disappeared. They asked him if he 
did not remember he had been a Rajah once, and about 
his journey to Panch-Phul Ranee’s country. But he 
said, No, he remembered nothing but how to beat the 
drum — Rub-a-dub ! tat-tat ! tom-tum ! tom-tum ! He 
thought he must have beaten it all his life. 

Then the young Prince gave orders that all the 
nautch people should be put into jail until it could be 
discovered what part they had taken in reducing his 
father to so pitiable a state. And sending for the 
wisest doctors in the kingdom, he said to them, “ Do 
your best and restore the health of this Rajah, who has 
to all appearance lost both memory and reason ; and 
discover, if possible, what has caused these misfortunes 
to befall him.” The doctors said, “He has certainly 
had some potent charm given to him, which has de- 
stroyed both his memory and reason, but we will do 
our best to counteract its influence.” 

And so they did. And their treatment succeeded so 
well that, after a time, the Rajah entirely recovered his 
former senses. And they took such good care of him 
that in a little while he regained his health and strengh 
also, and looked almost as well as ever. 

* A coarse woolen blanket. 


190 


Old Deccan Days. 


He then found to his surprise that he, Panch-Phul 
Ranee, and their son, had all this time been living in 
his father’s kingdom. His father was so delighted to 
see him again that he was no longer unkind to him, 
but treated him as a dearly beloved, long-lost son. His 
mother also was overjoyed at his return, and they said 
to him, u Since you have been restored to us again, 
why should you wander any more? Your wife and 
son are here ; do you also remain here, and live among 
us for the rest of your days.” But he replied, “ I have 
another wife — the Carpenter’s daughter — who first was 
kind to me in my adopted country. I also have there 
nine hundred and ninety-eight talking wooden parrots, 
which I greatly prize. Let me first go and fetch 
them.” 

They said, “ Very well ; go quickly and then re- 
turn.” So he mounted the two wooden parrots which 
had brought him from the Panch-Phul Ranee’s coun- 
try (and which had for eighteen years lived in the jun- 
gle close to the palace), and returned to the land where 
his first wife lived, and fetched her and the nine hun- 
dred and ninety-eight remaining wooden parrots to his 
father’s kingdom. Then his father said to him, “Don’t 
have any quarreling with your half-brother after I am 
dead (for his half-brother was son of the old Rajah’s 
favorite \^fe). “ I love you both dearly, and will give 

each of you half of my kingdom.” So he divided the 
kingdom into two halves, and gave the one half to the 
Panch-Phul Ranee’s husband, who was the son of his 
first wife, and the other half to the eldest son of his 
second but favorite wife. 

A short time after this arrangement was made, 
Panch-Phul Ranee said to her husband, “I wish to 


Panch-Phul Ranee . 


191 

see my father and mother again before I die ; let me go 
and see them.” He answered, “You shall go, and I 
and our son will also go.” So he called four of the 
wooden parrots — two to carry himself and the Ranee, 
and two to carry their son. Each pair of parrots 
crossed their wings ; the young Prince sat upon the 
two wings of one pair, and on the wings of the other 
pair sat his father and mother. Then they all rose up 
in the air, and the parrots carried them (as they had 
before carried the Rajah alone), up, up, up, 011, on, 
on, over the Red Sea, and across the seven seas, until 
they reached the Panch-Phul Ranee’s country. 

Panch-Phul Ranee’s father saw them come flying 
through the air as quickly as shooting stars, and much 
wondering who they were, he sent out man}" of his no- 
bles and chief officers to inquire. 

The nobles went out to meet them, and palled out, 
“ What great Rajah is this who is dressed so royally, 
and comes flying through the air so fast? Tell us, that 
^e may tell our Rajah.” 

The Rajah answered, “ Go and tell your master that 
this is Panch-Phul Ranee’s husband, come to visit his 
father-in-law.” So they took that answer back to the 
palace, but when the Rajah heard it, he said, “ I can- 
not tell what this means, for the Panch-Phul Ranee’s 
husband died long ago. It is twenty years since he 
fell upon the iron spears and died ; let us, however, all 
go and discover who this great Rajah really is.” And 
he and all his court went out to meet the new-comers, 
just as the parrots had alighted close to the palace 
gate. The Panch-Phul Ranee took her son by the one 
hand and her husband by the other, and walking to 
meet her father, said, “ Father, I have come to see you 


192 


Old Deccan Days . 


again. This is my husband who died, and this boy is 
my son.” Then all the land was glad to see the 
Panch-Phul Ranee back, and the people said, “ Our 
Princess is the most beautiful Princess in the world, 
and her husband is as handsome as she is, and her son 
is a fair boy ; we will that they should always live 
among us and reign over us.” 

When they had rested a little, the Panch-Phul 
Ranee told her father and mother the story of all her 
adventures from the time she and her husband were 
left in the palkees in the jungle. And when they had 
heard it, her father said to the Rajah, her husband, 
“You must never go away again; for see, I have no 
son but you. You and your son must reign here after 
me. And behold all this great kingdom will I now 
give you, if you will only stay with us ; for I am old 
and weary of governing the land.” 

But the Rajah answered, “ I must return once again 
to my own country, and then I will stay with you as 
long as I live.” 

So, leaving the Pan*h-Phul Ranee and her son with 
the old Rajah and Ranee, he mounted his parrots and 
once more returned to his father’s land. And when he 
had reached it, he said to his mother, “ Mother, my 
father-in-law has given me a kingdom ten thousand 
times larger than this. So I have but returned to bid 
you farewell and fetch my first wife, and then I must 
go back to live in that other land.” She answered, 
“ Very well ; so you are happy anywhere, I am happy 
too.” 

He then said to his half-brother, “ Brother, my 
father-in-law has given me all the Panch-Phul Ranee’s 
country, which is very far away ; therefore I give up to 


Panch-Phul Ranee. 


T 93 

you the half of this kingdom that my father gave to 
me.” Then, bidding his father farewell, he took the 
Carpenter’s daughter back with him (riding through 
the air on two of the wooden parrots, and followed by 
the rest) to the Panch-Phul Ranee’s country, and 
there he and his two wives and his son lived very 
happily all their mortal days. 

17 I 





X. 


HOW THE SUN, THE MOON AND THE WIND 
WENT OUT TO DINNER. 

O NE day the Sun, the Moon and the Wind went 
out to dine with their uncle and aunt, the Thun- 
der and Lightning. Their mother (one of the most 
distant Stars you see far up in the sky) waited alone 
for her children’s return. 

Now both the Sun and the Wind were greedy and 
selfish. They enjoyed the great feast that had been 
prepared for them, without a thought of saving any of 
it to take home to their mother; but the gentle Moon 
.did not forget her. Of every dainty dish that was 
brought round she placed a small portion under one of 
her beautiful long finger-nails, that the Star might also 
have a share in the treat.* 

On their return, their mother, who had kept watch 
for them all night long with her little bright eye, said, 
“Well, children, what have you brought home for 
me?” Then the Sun (who was eldest) said, “I have 
brought nothing home for you. I went out to enjoy 
myself with my friends, not to fetch a dinner for my 
mother !” And the Wind said, “ Neither have I brought 
anything home for you, mother. You could hardly 
expect me to bring a collection of good things for yp-u, 
* See Notes at the end. 


194 


The Sun , the Moon and the Wind. 195 

when I merely went out for my own pleasure.” But 
the Moon said, “ Mother, fetch a plate ; see what I have 
brought you.” And shaking her hands she showered 
down such a choice dinner as never was seen before. 

Then the Star turned to the Sun and spoke thus : 
“ Because you went out to amuse yourself with your 
friends, and feasted and enjoyed yourself without any 
thought of your mother at home, you shall be cursed. 
Henceforth, your rays shall ever be hot and scorching, 
and shall burn all that they touch. And men shall 
hate you and cover their heads when you appear.” 

(And that is why the Sun is so hot to this day.) 

Then she turned to the Wind and said : “You also, 
who forgot your mother in the midst of your selfish 
pleasures, hear your doom. You shall always blow in 
the hot, dry weather, and shall parch and shrivel all 
living things. And men shall detest and avoid you 
from this very time.” 

(And that is why the Wind in the hot weather is 
still so disagreeable.) 

But to the Moon she said : “ Daughter, because you 
remembered your mother, and kept for her a share in 
your own enjoyment, from henceforth you shall be 
ever cool and calm and bright. No noxious glare shall 
accompany your pure rays, and men shall always call 
you 4 blessed/ ” 

(And that is why the Moon’s light is so soft and cool 
and beautiful even to this day.) 



XI. 


SINGH RAJAH AND THE CUNNING LITTLE 


JACKALS. 


NCE upon a time, in a great jungle, there lived 



a great Lion. He was Rajah of all the country 
round ; and every day he used to leave his den, in the 
deepest shadow of the rocks, and roar with a loud, 
angry voice ; and when he roared, the other animals 
in the jungle, who were all his subjects, got very much 
frightened and ran here and there ; and Singh Rajah 
would pounce upon them and kill them, and gobble 
them up for his dinner. 

This went on for a long, long time, until, at last, 
there were no living creatures left in the jungle but two 
little Jackals — a Rajah Jackal and a Ranee Jackal — 
husband and wife. 

A very hard time of it the poor little Jackals had, 
running this way and that to escape the terrible Singh 
Rajah ; and every day the little Ranee Jackal would 
say to her husband, ” I am afraid he will catch us to- 
day ; do you hear how he is roaring ? Oh dear ! oh 
dear !” And he would answer her, “ Never fear ; I 
will take care of you. Let us run on a mile or two. 
Come, come quick, quick, quick.” And they would 
both run away as fast as they could. 


196 



Singh Rajah and the Cunning yackals. 197 

After some time spent in this way, they found, how- 
ever, one fine day, that the Lion was so close upon them 
that they could not escape. Then the little Ranee 
Jackal said, “ Husband, husband, I feel much fright- 
ened. The Singh Rajah is so angry he will certainly 
kill us at once. What can we do ?” But he answered, 
“ Cheer up ; we can save ourselves yet. Come, and 
I’ll show you how we may manage it.” 

So what did these cunning little Jackals do but they 
went to the great Lion’s den ; and when he saw them 
coming, he began to roar and shake his mane, and he 
said, “ You little wretches, come and be eaten at once ! 
I have had no dinner for three whole days, and all that 
time I have been running over hill and dale to find 
you. Ro-a-ar ! Ro-a-ar ! Come and be eaten, I say !” 
and he lashed his tail and gnashed his teeth, and looked 
very terrible indeed. Then the Jackal Rajah, creeping 
quite close up to him, said, “ Oh, great Singh Rajah, 
we all know you are our master, and we would have 
come at your bidding long ago ; but indeed, sir, there 
is a much bigger Rajah even than you in this jungle, 
and he tried to catch hold of us and eat us up, and 
frightened us so much that we were obliged to run 
away.” 

“What do you mean?” growled Singh Rajah. 
“ There is no king in this jungle but me !” “ Ah, 

sire,” answered the Jackal, “ in truth one would think 
so, for you are very dreadful. Your very voice is 
death. But it is as we say, for we, with our own eyes, 
have seen one with whom you could not compete — 
whose equal you can no more be than we are yours — 
whose face is as flaming fire, his step as thunder, and 
his power supreme.” “ It is impossible !” interrupted 


Old Deccan JL/ays. 


198 

the old Lion ; “ but show me this Rajah of whom you 
speak so much, that I may destroy him instantly !” 

Then the little Jackals ran on before him until they 
reached a great well, and pointing down to his own 
reflection in the water, they said, “ See, sire, there 
lives the terrible king of whom we spoke.” When 
Singh Rajah looked down the well, he became very 
angry, for he thought he saw another Lion there. He 
roared and shook his great mane, and the shadow Lion 
shook his and looked terribly defiant. At last, beside 
himself with rage at the violence of his opponent, Singh 
Rajah sprang down to kill him at once, but no other 
Lion was there — only the treacherous reflection —and 
the sides of the well were so steep that he could not 
get out again to punish the two Jackals, who peeped 
over the top. ' After struggling for some time in the 
deep water, he sank to rise no more. And the little 
Jackal threw stones down upon him from abovr , and 
danced round and round the well, singing, “ Ao ! Ao ! 
Ao ! Ao ! The King of the Forest is dead, is dead ! 
We have killed the great Lion who would have lulled 
us ! Ao ! Ao ! Ao ! Ao ! Ring-a-ting — ding-a-ting 1 
Ring-a-ting — ding-a-ting ! Ao ! Ao ! Ao !”* . 

* See Notes at the end. 




XII. 

THE JACKAL, THE BARBER AND THE BRAH 
MIN WHO HAD SEVEN DAUGHTERS . 

A BARBER and a Jackal once struck up a great 
friendship, which might have continued to this 
day, had not the Jackal been so clever that the Barber 
never felt quite on equal terms with him, and suspected 
his friend of playing him many tricks. But this he 
was not able to prove. 

One day the Jackal said to the Barber, “ It would be 
a nice thing for us to have a garden of our own, in 
which we might grow as many Cucumbers, pumpkins 
and melons as we like. Why should we not buy 
one ?” 

The Barber answered, “Very well; here is money. 
Do you go and buy us a garden.” So the Jackal took 
the Barber’s money, and with it bought a fine garden, 
in which were cucumbers, pumpkins, melons, figs, and 
many other good fruits and vegetables. And he used 
to go there every day and feast to his heart’s content. 
When, however, the Barber said to him, “ What is the 
garden like which you bought with the money I gave 
you?” he answered, “There are very fine plants in it, 
but there is no fruit upon them ; when the fruit is ripe 
I will let you know.” This reply satisfied the Barber, 
who inquired no further at that time. 


199 



200 


Old Deccan Days. 

A little while afterward, the Barber again asked the 
Jackal about the garden, saying, “ I see you go down 
to that garden every day; is the fruit getting ripe?” 
“ Oh dear no, not yet,” answered the Jackal ; “ why, 
the plants are only just coming into blossom.” 

But all this time there was a great deal of fruit in 
the garden, and the Jackal went there every day and 
ate as much as he could. 

Again, a third time, when some weeks had passed, 
the Barber said to him, “ Is there no ripe^ fruit in our 
garden yet?” “No,” said the Jackal ; “the blossoms 
have only just fallen, but the fruit is forming. In time 
we shall have a fine show of melons and figs there.” 

Then the Barber began to think the Jackal was de- 
ceiving him, and determined to see and judge for him- 
self. So next day, without saying anything about it, 
he followed him down to the garden. 

Now it happened that very day the Jackal had in- 
vited all his friends to come and feast there. All the 
animals in the neighboring jungle had accepted the 
invitation ; there they came trooping by hundreds and 
dozens, and were very merry indeed — running here 
and there, and eating all the melons and cucumbers 
and figs and pumpkins in the place. 

The Barber peeped over the hedge, and saw the 
assembled wild beasts, and his friend the Jackal enter- 
taining them — talking to this one, laughing with that, 
and eating with all. The good man did not dare to 
attack the intruders, as they were many and powerful. 
But he went home at once, very angry, muttering to 
himself, “ I’ll be the death of that young jackanapes ; 
he shall play no more pranks in my garden.” And, 
watching his opportunity, he returned there when the 


The Jackal , the Barber and the Brahmin . 201 

Jackal and all his friends had left, and tied a long 
knife to the largest of the cucumbers that still re- 
mained ; then he went home and said nothing of what 
he had seen. 

Early next morning the Jackal thought to himself, 
“ I’ll just run down to the garden and see if there are 
no cucumbers or melons left.” So he went there, and, 
picking out the largest of the cucumbers, began to eat 
it. Quick as thought, the long knife, that was con- 
cealed by the cucumber leaves, ran into him, cutting 
his muzzle, his neck and his side. 

“ Ah, that nasty Barber !” he cried ; u this must be 
his doing!” And instead of going home, he ran as 
fast as he could, very far, far, away into the jungle, and 
stretching himself out on a great flat rock, prepared 
to die. 

But he did not die. Only for three whole days the 
pain in his neck and side was so great that he could 
not move ; moreover, he felt very weak from loss of 
blood. 

At the end of the third day he tried to get up, but 
his own blood had sealed him to the stone ! He en- 
deavored to move it by his struggles, but could not suc- 
ceed. “ Oh dear ! oh dear !” he murmured ; “ to think 
that I should recover from my wound, only to die such 
a horrible death as this ! Ah me ! here is the punish- 
ment of dishonesty !” And, having said this, he began' 
to weep. It chanced, however, that the god of Rain 
heard his lamentations, and taking pity on the unfor- 
tunate animal, he sent a kindly shower, which, wetting 
the stone, effected his release. 

No sooner was the Jackal set free than he began to 
think what he could do to earn a livelihood, since he did 
I * 


202 


Old Deccan Days. 


not dare return to the Barber’s house. It was not long 
before a feasible plan struck him : all around was the 
mud made by the recent rain ; he placed a quantity of 
it in a small chattee, covered the top over carefully 
with leaves (as people do jars of fresh butter), and took 
it into a neighboring village to sell. 

At the door of one of the first houses to which he 
came s*ood a woman, to whom the Jackal said, “ Mahi, 
here is butter — beautiful fresh butter ! won’t you buy 
some fresh butter?” She answered, “Are you sure it 
is quite fresh? Let me see it.” But he replied, u It is 
perfectly fresh ; but if you open the chattee now, it 
will be all spoilt by the time you want it. If you like 
to buy it, you may take it ; if not, I will sell it to some 
one else.” The woman did want some fresh butter, 
and the chattee the Jackal carried on his head was care- 
fully fastened up, as if what it contained was of the 
best; and she knew if she opened it, it might spoil 
before her husband returned home ; besides, she thought, 
if the Jackal had intended to deceive her, he would 
have been more pressing in asking her to buy it. So 
she said, “Very well, give me the chattee; here is 
money for you. You are sure it is the best butter?” 
“It is the best of its kind,” answered the Jackal ; 
“ only be sure you put it in some cool place, and don’t 
open it till it is wanted.” And taking the money, he 
ran away. 

A short time afterward the woman discovered how 
she had been cheated, and was very angry ; but the 
Jackal was by that time far away, out of reach of 
punishment. 

When his money was spent, the Jackal felt puzzled 
as to how to get a living, since no one would give him 


The Jackal, the Barber and the Brahmin. 203 

food and he could buy none. Fortunately for him, jusl 
then one of the bullocks belonging to the village died. 
The Jackal found it lying dead by the road-side, and 
he began to eat it, and ate, and ate so much that at last 
he had got too far into the animal’s body to be seen by 
passers-by. Now the weather was hot and dry. Whilst 
the Jackal was in it, the bullock’s skin crinkled up so 
tightly with the heat that it became too hard for him 
to bite through, and so he could not get out again. 

The Mahars* of the village all came out to bury the 
dead bullock. The Jackal, who was inside it, feared 
that if they caught him they would kill him, and that 
if they did not discover him, he would be buried alive ; 
so on their approach he called out, “ People, people, 
take care how you touch me, for I am a great saint.” 
The poor people were very much frightened when they 
heard the dead bullock talking, and thought that some 
mighty spirit must indeed possess it.f u Who are you, 
sir, and what do you want?” they cried. “ I,” an- 
swered the Jackal, “ am a very holy saint. I am also 
the god of your village, and I am very angry with you 
because you never worship me nor bring me offerings.” 
“ O my Lord,” they cried, u what offerings will please 
you? Tell us only, and we will bring you whatever 
you like.” “ Good,” he replied. “ Then you must 
fetch here plenty of rice, plenty of flowers and a nice 
fat chicken ; place them as an offering beside me, and 
pour a great deal of water over them, as you do at your 
most solemn feasts, and I will forgive you your sins.” 
The Mahars did as they were commanded. The} r 
placed some rice and flowers, and the best chicken they 

* The lowest caste, employed as scavengers in every village. 

f See Notes at the end. 


Old Deccan Days . 


io\ 

could procure, beside the bullock, and poured water 
over it and the offering. Then, no sooner did the dry, 
hard bullock’s skin get wetted than it split in many 
places, and to the surprise of all his worshipers, the 
Jackal jumped out, seized the chicken in his mouth, 
and ran away with it through the midst of them into 
the jungle. The Mahars ran after him over hedges and 
ditches for many, many miles, but he got away in spite 
of them all. 

On, on he ran — on, on, for a very long way — until 
at last he came to a place where a little kid lived under 
a little sicakai* tree. All her relations and friends 
were away, and when she saw him coming she thought 
to herself, “ Unless I frighten this Jackal, he will eat 
me.” So she ran as hard as she could up against the 
sicakai tree, which made all the branches shake and 
the leaves go rustle, rustle, rustle. And when the 
Jackal heard the rustling noise he got frightened, and 
thought it was all the little kid’s friends coming to help 
her. And she called out to him, u Run away, Jackal, 
run away. Thousands and thousands of Jackals have 
run away at that sound — run away for your life.” And 
tfie Jackal was so frightened that he ran away. So, he 
who had deceived so many was outwitted by a simple 
little kid ! 

After this the Jackal found his way back to his own 
village, where the Barber lived, and there for some 
time he used to prowl round the houses every night 
and live upon any bones he could find. The villagers 
did not like his coming, but did not know how to catch 
him, until one night his old friend the Barber (who 
had* never forgiven him for stealing the fruit from the 
* Acacia concinna. 


The Jackal , the Barber and the Brahmin. 205 

garden) caught him in a great net, having before made 
many unsuccessful attempts to do so. “ Aha !” cried 
the Barber, “ I’ve got you at last, my friend. You 
did not escape death from the cucumber-knife for noth- 
ing ! you won’t get away this time. Here, wife ! wife ! 
see what a prize I’ve got.” The Barber’s wife came 
mnning to the door, and the Barber gave her the 
Jackal (after he had tied all his four legs firmly to- 
gether with a strong rope), and said to her, “Take 
this animal into the house, and be sure you don’t let 
him escape, while I go and get a knife to kill him 
with.” 

The Barber’s wife did as she was bid, and taking the 
Jackal into the house, laid him down on the floor. 
But no sooner had the Barber gone than the Jackal 
said to her, “ Ah, good woman, your husband will re- 
turn directly and put me to death. For the love of 
heaven, loosen the rope round my feet before he comes, 
for one minute only, and let me drink a little water 
from that puddle by the door, for my throat is parched 
with thirst.” “ No, no, friend Jackal,” answered the 
Barber’s wife. “ I know well enough what you’ll do. 
No sooner shall I have untied your feet than you will 
run away, and when my husband returns and finds you 
are gone, he will beat me.” 

“ Indeed, indeed, I will not run away,” he re- 
plied. “Ah, kind mother, have pity on me, only for 
one little moment.” Then the Barber’s wife thought, 
“ Well, it is hard not to grant the poor beast’s last re- 
quest ; he will not live long enough to have many more 
pleasures.” So she untied the Jackal’s legs and held 
him by a rope, that he might drink from the puddle. 
But quick as possible, he gave a jump and a twist and 
18 


20 6 Old Deccan Days. 

a pull, and, jerking the rope out of her hand, escaped 
once more into the jungle. 

For some time he roamed up and down, living on 
what he could get in this village or thatj until he had 
wandered very far away from the country where the 
Barber lived. At last one day, by chance, he passed a 
certain cottage, in which there dwelt a very poor Brah- 
min, who had seven daughters. 

As the Jackal passed by, the Brahmin was saying to 
himself, “ Oh dear me ! what can I do for my seven 
daughters? I shall have to support them all my life, 
for they are much too poor ever to get married. If a 
dog or a jackal were to offer to take one off my hands, 
he should have her.” Next day the Jackal called on 
the Brahmin, and said to him, “ You said yesterday, if 
a jackal or a dog were to offer to marry one of your 
daughters, you would let him have her ; will you, 
therefore accept me as a son-in-law?” 

The poor Brahmin felt very much embarrassed, but 
it was certain he had said the words, and therefore he 
felt in honor bound not to retract, although he had lit- 
tle dreamed of ever being placed in such a predica- 
ment. Just at that moment all the seven daughteis 
began crying for bread, and the father had no bread to 
give them. Observing this, th? Jackal continued, 
“ Let me marry one of your seven daughters and I will 
take care of her. It will at least leave you one less to 
provide for, and I will see that she never needs food.” 
Then the Brahmin’s heart was softened, and he gave 
the Jackal his eldest daughter in marriage, and the 
Jackal took her home to his den in the high rocks. 

Now you will say there never was a Jackal so clevei 
as this. Very true, for this was not a common Jackal, 


The yackal , the Barber and the Brahmin. 207 

or he could never have done all that I have told you 
This Jackal was, in fact, a great Rajah in disguise, 
who, to amuse himself, took the form of a Jackal ; for 
he was a great magician as well as a great prince. 

The den to which he took the Brahmin’s daughter 
looked like quite a common hole in the rocks on the 
outside, but inside it was a splendid palace, adorned 
with silver, and gold, and ivory and precious stones. 
But even his own wife did not know that he was not 
always a Jackal, for the Rajah never took his human 
form except every morning very early, when he used 
to take off the jackal skin and wash it and brush it, 
and put it on again. 

After he and his wife, the Brahmin’s daughter, had 
lived up in their home in the rocks happily for some 
time, who should the Jackal see one day but his father- 
in-law, the old Brahmin, climbing up the hill to come 
and pay him a visit. The Jackal was vexed to see the 
Brahmin, for he knew he was very poor, and thought 
he had most likely come to beg ; and so it was. The 
Brahmin said to him, “ Son-in-law, let me come into 
your cave and rest a little while. I want to ask you to 
help me, for I am very poor and much in need of 
help.” 

“ Don’t go into my cave,” said the Jackal ; “ it is but 
a poor hole, not fit for you to enter” (for he did not wish 
his father-in-law to see his fine palace) ; “but I will 
call my wife, that you may see I have not eaten her up, 
and she and you and I will talk over the matter, and 
see what we can do for you.” 

So the Brahmin, the Brahmin’s daughter and the 
Jackal all sat down on the hill-side together, and the 
Brahmin said, “ I don’t know what to do to get food 


2oS 


Old Deccan Days. 


for myself, my wife and my six daughters. Son-in- 
law Jackal, cannot you help me?” “It is a difficult 
business,” answered the Jackal, “but I’ll do what I 
can for you ;” and he ran to his cave and fetched a 
large melon, and gave it to the Brahmin, saying, 
“ Father-in-law, you must take this melon, and plapt it 
in your garden, and when it grows up sell all the fruit 
you find upon it, and that will bring you in some 
money.” So the Brahmin took the melon home with 
him and planted it in his garden. 

By next day the melon that the Jackal had given 
him had grown up in the Brahmin’s garden into a fine 
plant, covered with hundreds of beautiful ripe melons. 
The Brahmin, his wife and family were overjoyed at 
the sight. And all the neighbors were astonished, and 
said, “ How fast that fine melon plant has grown in 
the Brahmin’s garden !” 

Now it chanced that a woman who lived in a house 
close by wanted some melons, and seeing what fine ones 
these were, she went down at once to the Brahmin’s 
house and bought two or three from the Brahmin’s 
wife. She took them home with her and cut them 
open ; but then, lo and behold ! marvel of marvels ! 
what a wonderful sight astonished her ! Instead of the 
thick white pulp she expected to see, the whole of the 
inside of the melon was composed of diamonds, rubies 
and emeralds, and all the seeds were enormous pearls. 
She immediately locked her door, and taking with her 
all the money she had, ran back to the Brahmin’s wife 
and said to her, “ Those were very good melons you 
sold me ; I like them so much that I will buy all the 
others on your melon plant.” And giving her the 
money, she took home all the rest of the melons. Now 


The "Jackal , the Barber and the Brahmin . 209 

this cunning woman told none of her friends of the 
treasure she had found, and the poor, stupid Brahmin 
and his family did not know what they had lost, for 
they had never thought of opening any of the melons ; 
so that for all the precious stones they sold they only 
got a few pice, which was very hard. Next day, when 
they looked out of the window, the melon plant was 
again covered with fine ripe melons, and again the 
woman who had bought those which had grown the 
day before came and bought them all. And this went 
on for several days. There were so many melons, and 
all the melons were so full of precious stones, that the 
woman who bought them had enough to fill the whole 
of one room in her house with diamonds, rubies, eme- 
ralds and pearls. 

At last, however, the wonderful melon plant began 
to wither, and when the woman came to buy melons 
one morning, the Brahmin’s wife was obliged to say to 
her, in a sad voice, “ Alas ! there are no more melons 
on our melon plant.” And the woman went back to 
her own house very much disappointed. 

That day the Brahmin and his wife and children had 
110 money in the house to buy food with, and they all 
jelt very unhappy to think that the fine melon plant had 
withered. But the Brahmin’s youngest daughter, who 
was a clever girl, thought, u Though there are no more 
melons fit to sell on our melon plant, perhaps I may be 
able to find one or two shriveled ones, which, if cooked, 
will give us something for dinner.” So she went out 
to look, and searching carefully amongst the thick leaves, 
found two or three withered little melons still remaining. 
These she took into the house and began cutting them 
up to cook, when — more wonderful than wonderful ! — 
18 * 


2 JO 


Old Deccan Days . 

within each little melon she found a number of small 
emeralds, rubies, diamonds and pearls ! The girl called 
her father and mother, and her five sisters, crying, “ See 
what I have found ! See these precious stones and 
pearls. I dare say inside all the melons we sold there 
were as good or better than these. No wonder that 
woman was so anxious to buy them all ! See, father — 
see, mother — see, sisters ! ” 

Then they were all overjoyed to see the treasure, but 
the Brahmin said, “ What a pity we have lost all the 
benefit of my son-in-law the Jackal’s good gift by not 
knowing its worth ! I will go at once to that woman, 
and try and make her give us back the melons she 
took.” 

So he went to the melon-buyer’s house, and said to 
her, “ Give me back the melons you took from me, who 
did not know their worth.” She answered, “ I don’t 
know what you mean.” He replied, “ You were very 
deceitful ; you bought melons full of precious stones 
from us poor people, who did not know what they were 
worth, and you only paid for them the price of common 
melons : give me some of them back, I pray you.” 
But she said, “ I bought common melons from your 
wife, and made them all into common soup long ago ; 
therefore talk no further nonsense about jewels, but go 
about your business.” And she turned him out of the 
house. Yet all this time she had a whole roomful of 
the emeralds, diamonds, rubies and pearls that she had 
found in the melons the Brahmin’s wife had sold her. 

The Brahmin returned home and said to his wife, “ I 
cannot make that woman give me back any of the 
melons you sold her ; but give me the precious stones 
our daughter has just found, and I will sell them to a 


The Jackal , the Barber and the Brahmin. 21 1 

jeweler and bring home some money.” So he went to 
the town, and took the precious stones to a jeweler, and 
said to him, “ What will you give me for these ? ” But 
no sooner did the jeweler see them than he said, u How 
could such a poor man as you become possessed of 
such precious stones? You must have stolen them: 
you are a thief! You have stolen these from my shop, 
and now come to sell them to me ! ” 

“ No, no, sir ; indeed no, sir,” cried the Brahmin. 
“ Thief, thief ! ” shouted the jeweler. “In truth, no 
sir,” said the Brahmin ; “ my son-in-law, the Jackal, 
gave me a melon plant, and in one of the melons I 
found these jewels.” “ I don't believe a word you say,” 
screamed the jeweler (and he began beating the Brah- 
min, whom he held by the arm) ; “ give up those jewels 
which you have stolen from my shop.” “ No, I won’t,” 
roared the Brahmin ; “ oh ! oh-o ! oh-o-o ! don’t beat 
me so ; I didn’t steal them.” But the jeweler was 
determined to get the jewels; so he beat the Brahmin 
and called the police, who came running up to his assist- 
ance, and shouted till a great crowd of people had 
collected round his shop. Then he said to the Brahmin, 
“ Give me up the jewels you stole from me, or I’ll give 
you to the police, and you shall be put in jail.” The 
Brahmin tried to tell his story about his son-in-law, the 
Jackal, but of course nobody believed him ; and he was 
obliged to give the precious stones to the jeweler in 
order to escape the police, and to run home as fast as 
he could. And every one thought the jeweler was very 
kind to let him off so easily. 

All his family were very unhappy when they heard 
what had befallen him. But his wife said, “You had 
better go again to our son-in-law, the Jackal, and see 


212 


Old Deccan Days. 


what he can do for us.” So next day the Brahmin 
climbed the hill again, as he had done before, and 
went to call upon the Jackal. When the Jackal saw 
him coming he was not very well pleased. So he went 
to meet him, and said, “ Father-in-law, I did not expect 
to see you again so soon.” “ I merely came to see how 
you were,” answered the Brahmin, “ and to tell you 
how poor we are ; and how glad we should be of any 
help you can give us.” “ What have you done with 
all the melons I gave you?” asked the Jackal. u Ah,” 
answered the Brahmin, “ that is a sad story ! ” And 
beginning at the beginning, he related how they had 
sold almost all the melons without knowing their value ; 
and how the few precious stones they had found had 
been taken from him by the jeweler. When the Jackal 
heard this he laughed very much, and said, “ I see it is 
no use giving such unfortunate people as you gold or 
jewels, for they will only bring you into trouble. Come, 
I’ll give you a more useful present.” So, running into 
his cave, he fetched thence a small chattee, and gave it 
to the Brahmin, saying, “ Take this chattee ; whenever 
you or any of the family are hungry, you will always 
find in it as good a dinner as this.” And putting his 
paw into the chattee, he extracted thence currie and 
rice, pilau,* and all sorts of good things, enough to 
feast a hundred men ; and the more he took out of the 
chattee, the more remained inside. 

When the Brahmin saw the chattee and' smelt the 
good dinner, his eyes glistened for joy ; and he em- 
braced the Jackal, saying, u Dear son-in-law, you are 
the only support of our house.” Anti he took his nevr 
present carefully home with him. 

* Meat cooked with almonds, raisins and spice. 


The Jackal, the Barher and the Brahmin. 213 

After this, for some time, the whole family led a very 
happy life, for they never wanted good food ; every 
day the Brahmin, his wife and his six daughters found 
inside the chattee a most delicious dinner ; and every 
day, when they had dined, they placed it on a shelf, to 
find it replenished when next it was needed. 

But it happened that hard by there lived another 
Brahmin, a very great man, who was much in the 
Rajah’s confidence ; and this man smelt daily the smell 
of a very nice dinner, which puzzled him a good deal. 
The rich Brahmin thought it smelt even nicer than his 
own dinner, for which he paid so much, and yet it 
seemed to come from the poor Brahmin’s little cottage. 
vSo one day he determined to find out all about it ; and, 
going to call on his neighbor, he said to him, “ Every 
day, at about twelve o’clock, I smell such a very nice 
dinner — much nicer than my own ; and it seems to 
come from your house. You must live on very good 
things, I think, although you seem to every one to be 
so very poor.” 

Then, in the pride of his heart, the poor Brahmin 
invited his rich neighbor to come and dine with him, 
and lifting the magic chattee down from the shelf, took 
out of it such delicate fare as the other had never before 
tasted. And in an evil hour he proceeded to tell his 
friend of the wondrous properties of the chattee, which 
his son-in-law, the Jackal, had given him, and how it 
never was empty. No sooner had the great man learnt 
all this than he went to the Rajah, and said to him, 
“ There is a poor Brahmin in the town who possesses 
a wonderful chattee, which is- always filled with the 
most delicious dinner. I should not feel authorized to 
deprive him of it ; but if it pleased your Highness to 


214 Old Deccan Days. 

take it from him, he could not complain.” The Rajah, 
hearing this, determined to see and taste for himself. 
So he said, “ I should very much like to see this chattee 
with my own eyes.” And he accompanied the rich 
Brahmin to the poor Brahmin’s house. The poor 
Brahmin was overjoyed at being noticed by the Rajah 
himself, and gladly exhibited the various excellences 
of the chattee ; but no sooner did the Rajah taste the 
dinner it contained than he ordered his guards to seize 
it and take it away to the palace, in spite of the Brah- 
min’s tears and protestations. Thus, for a second 
time, he lost the benefit of his son-in-law’s gift. 

When the Rajah had gone, the Brahmin said to his 
wife, “ There is nothing to be done but to go again to 
the Jackal, and see if he can help us.” “ If you don’t 
take care, you’ll put him out of all patience at last,” 
answered she. “ I can’t think why you need have gone 
talking about our chattee !” 

When the Jackal heard the Brahmin’s story, he be- 
came very cross, and said, u What a stupid old man 
you were to say anything about the chattee ! But see, 
here is another, which may aid you to get back the 
first. Take care of it, for this is the last time I will 
help you.” And he gave the Brahmin a chattee, in 
which was a stout stick tied to a very strong rope. 
“ Take this,” he said, “ into the presence of those who 
deprived you of my other gifts, and when you open the 
chattee, command the stick to beat them ; this it will 
do so effectually that they will gladly return you what 
you have lost ; only take care not to open the chattee 
when you are alone, or the stick that is in it will 
punish your rashness.” 

The Brahmin thanked his son-in-law, and took away 


The Jackal , the Barber and the Brahmin. 215 

the chattee, but he found it hard to believe all that had 
been said. So, going through the jungle on his way 
home, he uncovered it, just to peep in and see if the 
stick were really there. No sooner had he done this 
than out jumped the rope, out jumped the stick ; the 
rope seized him and bound him to a tree, and the stick 
beat him, and beat him, and beat him, until he was 
nearly killed. u Oh dear ! oh dear !” screamed the 
Brahmin; “what an unlucky man I am! Oh dear! 
oh dear ! stop, please stop ! good stick, stop ! what a 
very good stick this is !” But the stick would not stop, 
but beat him so much that he could hardly crawl home 
again. 

Then the Brahmin put the rope and stick back again 
into the chattee, and sent to his rich neighbor and to 
the Rajah, and said to them, “ I have a new chattee, 
much better than the old one ; do come and see what 
a fine one it is.” And the rich Brahmin and the Rajah 
thought, “ This is something good ; doubtless there is 
a choice dinner in this chattee also, and we will take 
it from this foolish man, as we did the other.” So 
they went down to meet the Brahmin in the jungle, 
taking with them all their followers and attendants. 
Then the Brahmin uncovered his chattee, saying, 
“ Beat, stick, beat ! beat them every one !” and the 
stick jumped out, and the rope jumped out, and the 
rope caught hold of the Rajah and the rich Brahmin 
and all their attendants, and tied them fast to the trees 
that grew around, and the stick ran from one to an- 
other, beating, beating, beating — beating the Rajah, 
beating his courtiers — beating the rich Brahmin, beat- 
ing his attendants, and beating all their followers ; 
while the poor Brahmin cried with all his might, 


2 1 6 Old Deccan Days. 

u Give me back my chattee ! give me back my 
chattee !” 

At this the Rajah and his people were very much 
frightened, and thought they were going to be killed. 
And the Rajah said to the Brahmin, “ Take away your 
stick, only take away your stick, and you shall have 
back your chattee.” So the Brahmin put the stick 
and rope back into the chattee, and the Rajah returned 
him the dinner-making chattee. And all the people 
felt very much afraid of the Brahmin, and respected 
hint very much. 

Then he took the chattee containing the rope and 
stick to the house of the woman who had bought the 
melons, and the rope caught her and the stick beat her ; 
and the Brahmin cried, “ Return me those melons ! re- 
turn me those melons !” And the woman said, “ Only 
make your stick stop beating me and you shall have 
back all the melons.” So he ordered the stick back 
into the chattee, and she returned him them forthwith 
— a whole roomful of melons full of diamonds, pearls, 
emeralds and rubies. 

The Brahmin took them home to his wife, and going 
into the town, with the help of his good stick, forced 
the jeweler who had deprived him of the little emeralds, 
rubies, diamonds and pearls he had taken to sell to give 
them back to him again, and having accomplished this, 
he returned to his family ; and from that time they all 
lived very happily. Then, one day, the Jackal’s wife 
invited her six sisters to come and pay her a visit. 
Now the youngest sister was more clever than any of 
the others ; and it happened that, very early in the 
morning, she saw her brother-in-law, the Jackal, take 
off the jackal skin and wash it and brush it, and 


The Jackal , the Barber and the Brahmin. 217 

hang it up to dry ; and when he had taken off the 
jackal-skin coat, he looked the handsomest prince that 
ever was seen. Then his little sister-in-law ran, quickly 
and quietly, and stole away the jackal-skin coat, and 
threw it on the fire and burnt it. And she awoke 
her sister, and said, “ Sister, sister, your husband 
is no longer a jackal ; see, that is he standing by 
the door.” So the Jackal Rajah’s wife ran to the door 
to meet her husband, and because the jackal’s skin was 
burnt, and he could wear it no longer, he continued to 
be a man for the rest of his life, and gave up playing 
all jackal-like pranks ; and he and his wife, and his 
father and mother and sisters-in-law, lived very happily 
all the rest of their days. 

19 K 




XIII. 


TIT FOR TAT. 


HERE once lived a Camel and a Jackal who 



JL were great friends. One day the Jackal said to 
the Camel, “ I know that there is a fine field of sugar- 
cane on the other side of the river. If you will take me 
across, I’ll show you the place. This plan will suit me 
as well as you. You will enjoy eating the sugar-cane, 
and I am sure to find many crabs, bones and bits of fish 
by the river-side, on which to make a good dinner.” 

The Camel consented and swam across the river, 
taking the Jackal, who could not swim, on his back. 
When they reached the other side, the Camel went to 
eating the sugar-cane, and the Jackal ran up and down 
the river bank devouring all the crabs, bits of fish and 
bones he could find. 

But being so much smaller an animal, he had made 
an excellent meal before the Camel had eaten more 
than two or three mouthfuls ; and no sooner had he 
finished his dinner than he ran round and round the 
sugar-cane field, yelping and howling with all his 
might. 

The villagers heard him, and thought, “ There is a 
Jackal among the sugar-canes ; he will be scratching 
holes in the ground and spoiling the roots of the plants.” 
And they all went down to the place to drive him 


218 


219 


Tit for Tat. 

away. But when they got there they found to their 
surprise not only a Jackal, but a Camel who was eating 
the sugar-canes ! This made them very angry, and 
they caught the poor Camel and drove him from the field 
and beat him and beat him, until he was nearly dead. 

When they had gone, the Jackal said to the Camel, 
“We had better go home.” And the Camel said, 
“Very well; then jump upon my back, as you did 
before.” 

So the Jackal jumped upon the Camel’s back, and 
the Camel began to recross the river. When they had 
got well into the water, the Camel said, “This is a 
pretty way in which you have treated me, friend Jackal. 
No sooner had you finished your own dinner than you 
must go yelping about the place loud enough to arouse 
the whole village, and bring all the villagers down to 
beat me black and blue, and turn me out of the field 
before I had eaten two mouthfuls ! What in the world 
did you make such a noise for ?” 

“I don’t know,” said the Jackal. “ It is a custom 
I have. I always like to sing a little after dinner.” 

The Camel waded on through the river. The water 
reached up to his knees — then above them — up, up, up, 
higher and higher, until he was obliged to swim. Then 
turning to the Jackal, he said, “ I feel very anxious to 
roll.” “ Oh, pray don’t ; why do you wish to do so?” 
asked the Jackal. “ I don’t know,” answered the 
Camel. “ It is a custom I have. I always like to have 
a little roll after dinner.” So saying, he rolled over in 
the water, shaking the Jackal off as he did so. And 
the Jackal was drowned, but the Camel swam safely 
ashore. 



XIV. 


THE BRAHMIN, THE TIGER AND THE SIX 


JUDGES. 



NCE upon a time, a Brahmin, who was walking 


along the road, came upon an iron cage, in 
which a great Tiger had been shut up by the villagers 
who caught him. 

As the Brahmin passed by, the Tiger called out and 
said to him, “ Brother Brahmin, brother Brahmin, have 
pity on me, and let me out of this cage for one minute 
only to drink a little water, for I am dying of thirst.” 
The Brahmin answered, “ No, I will not ; for if I let 
you out of the cage you will eat me.” 

“ Oh, father of mercy,” answered the Tiger, “ in 
truth that will I not. I will never be so ungrateful ; 
only let me out, that I may drink some water and re- 
turn.” Then the Brahmin took pity on him and opened 
the cage door ; but no sooner had he done so than the 
Tiger, jumping out, said, “Now, I will eat you first 
and drink the water afterward.” But the Brahmin 
said, “ Only do not kill me hastily. Let us first ask the 
opinion of six, and if all of them say it is just and fair 
that you should put me to death, then I am willing to 
die.” “Very well,” answered the Tiger, “ it shall be 
as you say ; we will first ask the opinion of six.” 

So the Brahmin and the Tiger walked on till they 


220 




The Brahmin , Tiger and Six Judges. 221 

came to a Banyan tree ; and the Brahmin said to it, 
“ Banyan tree, Banyan tree, hear and give judgment.” 
“ On what must I give judgment?” asked the Banyan 
tree. u This Tiger,” said the Brahmin, “ begged me 
to let him out of his cage to drink a little water, and he 
promised not to hurt me if I did so ; but now, that I 
have let him out, he wishes to eat me. Is it just that 
he should do so or no ?” 

The Banyan tree answered, “Men often come to 
take shelter in the cool shade under my boughs from 
the scorching rays of the run ; but when they have 
rested, they cut and break my pretty branches and 
wantonly scatter my leaves. Let the Tiger eat the man, 
for men are an ungrateful race.” 

At these words the Tiger would have instantly killed 
the Brahmin ; but the Brahmin said, “ Tiger, Tiger, 
you must not kill me yet, for you promised that we 
should first hear the judgment of six.” “ Very well,” 
said the Tiger, and they went on their way. After a 
little while they met a Camel. “ Sir Camel, Sir 
Camel,” cried the Brahmin, “ hear and give judgment.” 
“On what shall I give judgment?” asked the Camel. 
And the Brahmin related how the Tiger had begged 
him to open the cage door, and promised not to eat him 
if he did so ; and how he had afterward determined to 
break his word, and asked if that were just or not. 
The Camel replied, “ When I was young and strong, 
and could do much work, my master took care of me 
and gave me good food ; but now that I am old, and 
have lost all my strength in his service, he overloads 
me and starves me, and beats me without mercy. Let 
the Tiger eat the man, for men are an unjust and cruel 
race.” 

19 * 


222 


Old Deccan Days. 


The Tiger would then have killed the Brahmin, but 
the latter said, “ Stop, Tiger, for we must first hear the 
judgment of- six.” 

So they both went again on their way. At a little 
distance they found a Bullock lying by the roadside. 
The Brahmin said to him, “ Brother Bullock, brother 
Bullock, hear and give judgment.” “ On what must I 
give judgment?” asked the Bullock. The Brahmin 
answered, u I found this Tiger in a cage, and he prayed 
me to open the door and let him out to drink a little 
water, and promised not to kill me if I did so ; but 
when I had let him out he resolved to put me to death. 
Is it fair he should do so or no?” The Bullock said, 
“ When I was able to work my master fed me well and 
tended me carefully, but now I am old he has forgotten 
all I did for him, and left me by the roadside to die. 
Let the Tiger eat the man, for men have no pity.” 

Three out of the six had given judgment against the 
Brahmin, but still he did not lose all hope, and deter- 
mined to ask the other three. 

They next met an Eagle flying through the air, to 
whom the Brahmin cried, u O Eagle, great Eagle, hear 
and give judgment?” u On what must I give judg- 
ment?” asked the Eagle. The Brahmin stated the 
case, but the Eagle answered, “ Whenever men see me 
they try to shoot me ; they climb the rocks and steal 
away my little ones. Let the Tiger eat the man, for 
men are the persecutors of the earth.” 

Then the Tiger began to roar, and said, “ The judg- 
ment of all is against you, O Brahmin.” But the 
Brahmin answered, u Stay yet a little longer, for two 
others must first be asked.” After this they saw an 
Alligator, and the Brahmin related the matter to him, 


The Brahmin , Tiger and Six fudges. 223 

hoping for a more favorable verdict. But the Alliga- 
tor said, u Whenever I put my nose out of the water 
men torment me and try to kill me. Let the Tiger eat 
the man, for as long as men live we shall have no 
rest.” 

The Brahmin gave himself up as lost ; but again he 
prayed the Tiger to have patience and let him ask the 
opinion of the sixth judge. Now the sixth was a 
Jackal. The Brahmin told his story, and said to him, 
u Mama* Jackal, mama Jackal, say what is your judg- 
ment?” The Jackal answered, “It is impossible for 
me to decide who is in the right and who in the wrong 
unless I see the exact position in which you were when 
the dispute began. Show me the place.” So the 
Brahmin and the Tiger returned to the place where 
they first met, and the Jackal went with them. When 
they got there, the Jackal said, “Now, Brahmin, show 
me exactly where you stood.” “ Here,” said the Brah- 
min, standing by the iron tiger-cage. “ Exactly there, 
was it?” asked the Jackal. “Exactly here,” replied 
the Brahmin. “Where was the Tiger, then?” asked 
the Jackal. “In the cage,” answered the Tiger. 
“ How do you mean?” said the Jackal ; “ how were you 
within the cage? which way were you looking?” 
“ Why, I stood so,” said the Tiger, jumping into the 
cage, “ and my head was on this side.” “ Very good,” 
said the Jackal, “but I cannot judge without under- 
standing the whole matter exactly. Was the cage dooi 
open or shut?” “ Shut and bolted,” said the Brahmin. 
“ Then shut and bolt it,” said the Jackal. 

When the Brahmin had done this, the Jackal said, 
“ Oh, you wicked and ungrateful Tiger ! when the 
* Uncle. 


224 


Old Deccan Days . 


good Brahmin opened your cage door, is to eat him the 
only return you would make? Stay there, then, for 
the rest of your days, for no one will ever let you out 
again. Proceed on your journey, friend Brahmin, 
^four road lies that way and mine this.” 

So saying, the Jackal ran off in one direction, and 
the Brahmin went rejoicing on his way in the other. 




XV. 


THE SELFISH SPARROW AND THE HOUSE- 


LESS CROWS. 


SPARROW once built a nice little house for 



IX. herself, and lined it well with wool and protected 
it with sticks, so that it equally resisted the summer sun 
and the winter rains. A Crow who lived close by had 
also built a house, but it was not such a good one, 
being only made of a few sticks laid one above another 
on the top of a prickly pear hedge. The consequence 
was, that one day, when there was an unusually heavy 
shower, the Crow’s nest was washed away, while the 
Sparrow’s was not at all injured. 

In this extremity the Crow and her mate went to the 
Sparrow, and said, “ Sparrow, Sparrow, have pity on 
us and give us shelter, for the wind blows and the rain 
beats, and the prickly pear hedge thorns stick into our 
eyes.” But the Sparrow answered, u I’m cooking the 
dinner ; I cannot let you in now ; come again pre- 
sently.” In a little while the Crows returned, and 
said, “ Sparrow, Sparrow, have pity on us and give us 
shelter, for the wind blows and the rain beats, and the 
prickly pear hedge thorns stick into our eyes.” The 
Sparrow answered, “ I’m eating my dinner ; I cannot 
let you in now ; come again presently.” The Crows 
flew away, but in a little while returned, and cried 


K * 


225 



226 


Old Deccan Days . 


once more, “ Sparrow, Sparrow, have pity on us and 
give us shelter, for the wind blows and the rain beats, 
and the prickly pear hedge thorns stick into our eyes.” 
The Sparrow replied, “ I’m washing the dishes ; I can- 
not let you in now ; come again presently.” The 
Crows waited a while and then called out, “ Sparrow, 
Sparrow, have pity on us and give us shelter, for the 
wind blows and the rain beats, and the prickly pear 
hedge thorns stick into our eyes.” But the Sparrow 
would not let them in ; she only answered, “ I’m sweep- 
ing the floor ; I cannot let you in now ; come again 
presently.” Next time the Crows came and cried, 
“ Sparrow, Sparrow, have pity on us and give us 
shelter, for the wind blows and the rain beats, and the 
prickly pear hedge thorns stick into our eyes.” She an- 
swered, “ I’m making the beds ; I cannot let you in 
now ; come again presently.” So, on one pretence or 
another, she refused to help the poor birds. At last, 
when she and her children had had their dinner, and 
she had prepared and put away the dinner for next 
day, and had put all the children to bed and gone to 
bed herself, she cried to the Crows, “ You may come 
in now, and take shelter for the night.” The Crows 
came in, but they were much vexed at having been kept 
out so long in the wind and the rain, and when the 
Sparrow and all her family were asleep, the one said 
to the other, “ This selfish Sparrow had no pity on us ; 
she gave us no dinner, and would not let us in till she 
and all her children were comfortably in bed ; let us 
punish her.” So the two Crows took all the nice din- 
ner the Sparrow had prepared for herself and her chil 
dren to eat next day, and flew away with it. 


XVI. 


THE VALIANT CHATTEE-MAKER. 

O NCE upon a time, in a violent storm of thunder, 
lightning, wind and rain, a Tiger crept for shel- 
ter close to the wall of an old woman’s hut. This old 
woman was very poor, and her hut was but a tumble- 
down place, through the roof of which the rain came 
drip, drip, drip on more sides than one. This troubled 
her much, and she went running about from side to 
side, dragging first one thing and then another out of 
the way of the leaky places in the roof, and as she did 
so she kept saying to herself, “ Oh dear ! oh dear ! 
how tiresome this is ! I’m sure the roof will come 
down ! If an elephant, or a lion, or a tiger were to 
walk in, he Wouldn’t frighten me half so much as this 
perpetual dripping.” And then she would begin drag- 
ging the bed and all the other things in the room about 
again, to get them out of the way of the wet. The 
Tiger, who was crouching down just outside, heard all 
that she said, and thought to himself, “ This old woman 
says she would not be afraid of an elephant, or a lion, 
or a tiger, but that this perpetual dripping frightens her 
more than all. What can this ‘perpetual dripping’ 
be ? — it must be something very dreadful.” And hear- 
ing her immediately afterward dragging all the things 

227 


228 


Old Deccan Days . 


about the room again, he said to himself, “ What a ter- 
rible noise ! Surely that must be the ‘ per fetual drip - 
ping.'” 

At this moment a Chattee-maker,* who was in 
search of his donkey, which had strayed away, came 
down the road. The night being very cold, he had, 
truth to say, taken a little more toddy than was good 
for him, and seeing, by the light of a flash of lightning, 
a large animal lying down close to the old woman's 
hut, he mistook it for the donkey he was looking for. 
So, running up to the Tiger, he seized hold of it by 
one ear, and commenced beating, kicking and abusing 
it with all his might and main. “ You wretched crea- 
ture !” he cried, “ is this the way you serve me, oblig- 
ing me to come out and look for you in such pouring 
rain and on such a dark night as this? Get up in- 
stantly, or I’ll break every bone in your body so he 
went on scolding and thumping the Tiger with his 
utmost power, for he had worked himself up into a 
terrible rage. The Tiger did not know what to make 
of it all, but he began to feel quite frightened, and said 
to himself, “Why, this must be the ‘perpetual drip- 
ping no wonder the old woman said she was more 
afraid of it than of an elephant, a lion, or a tiger, for 
it gives most dreadfully hard blows.” 

The Chattee-maker, having made the Tiger get up, 
got on his back and forced him to carry him home, 
kicking and beating him the whole way, for all this 
time he fancied he was on his donkey ; and then he 
tied his fore feet and his head firmly together, and fas- 
tened him to a post in front of his house, and when he 
had done this he went to bed. 


* Potter. 


The Valiant Chattee- Maker . 


229 


Next morning, when the Chattee-maker’s wife got 
up and looked out of the window, what did she see 
but a great big Tiger tied up in front of their house, to 
the post to which they usually fastened the donkey : 
she was very much surprised, and running to her hus- 
band, awoke him, saying, “Do you know what animal 
you fetched home last night ?” “Yes, the donkey to 
be sure,” he answered. “ Come and see,” said she, 
and she showed him the great Tiger tied to the post. 
The Chattee-maker at this was no less astonished than 
his wife, and felt himself all over to find if the Tiger 
had not wounded him. But, no ! there he was safe 
and sound, and there was the Tiger tied to the post, 
just as he had fastened it up the night before. 

News of the Chattee-maker’s exploit soon spread 
through the village, and all the people came to see him 
and hear him tell how he had caught the Tiger and 
tied it to the post ; and this they thought so wonderful 
that they sent a deputation to the Rajah, with a letter 
to tell him how a man of their village had, alone and 
unarmed, caught a great Tiger and tied it to a post. 

When the Rajah read the letter he also was much 
surprised, and determined to go in person and see this 
astonishing sight. So he sent for his horses and car- 
riages, his lords and attendants, and they all set off 
together to look at the Chattee-maker and the Tiger he 
had caught. 

Now the Tiger was a very large one, and had long 
been the terror of all the country round, which made 
the whole matter still more extraordinary ; and all this 
being represented to the Rajah, he determined to con- 
fer all possible honor on the valiant Chattee-maker. 
So he gave him houses and lands, and as much money 
20 


230 


Old Deccan Days. 


as would fill a well, made him a lord of his court, and 
conferred on him the command of ten thousand horse. 

It came to pass, shortly after this, that a neighboring 
Rajah, who had long had a quarrel with this one, sent 
to announce his intention of going instantly to war with 
him ; and tidings were at the same time brought that 
the Rajah who sent the challenge had gathered a great 
army together on the borders, and was prepared at a 
moment’s notice to invade the country. 

In this dilemma no one knew what to do. The Rajah 
sent for all his generals, and inquired of them which 
would be willing to take command of his forces and 
oppose the enemy. They all replied that the country 
was fco ill-prepared for the emergency, and the case was 
apparently so hopeless, that they would rather not take 
the responsibility of the chief command. The Rajah 
knew not whom to appoint in their stead. Then some of 
his people said to him, “You have lately given the com- 
mand of ten thousand horse to the valiant Chattee- 
maker who caught the Tiger : why not make him 
commander-in-chief? A man who could catch a Tiger 
and tie him to a post, must surely be more courageous 
and clever than most.” “ Very*well,” said the Rajah, 
“ I will make him commander-in-chief.” So he sent 
for the Chattee-maker and said to him, “ In your hands 
I place all the power of the kingdom ; you must put 
our enemies to flight for us.” “ So be it,” answered 
the Chattee-maker ; “ but, before I lead the whole army 
against the enemy, suffer me to go by myself and ex- 
amine their position, and, if possible, find out their 
numbers and strength.” 

The Rajah consented, and the Chattee-maker returned 
home to his wife, and said : “ They have made me 


The Valiant Chat tee- Maher. 


23 


commander-in-chief, which is a very difficult post for 
me to fill, because I shall have to ride at the head of 
all the army, and you know I never was on a horse in 
my life. But I have succeeded in gaining a little delay, 
as the Rajah has given me permission to go first alone 
and reconnoitre the enemy’s camp. Do you therefore 
provide a very quiet pony, for you know I cannot ride, 
and I will start to-morrow morning.” 

But, before the Chattee-maker had started, the Rajah 
sent over to him a most magnificent charger richly 
caparisoned, which he begged he would ride when 
going to see the enemy’s camp. The Chattee-maker 
was frightened almost out of his life, for the charger 
that the Rajah had sent him was very powerful and 
spirited, and he felt sure that even if he ever got on it, 
he should very soon tumble off; however, he did not 
dare to refuse it, for fear of offending the Rajah by not 
accepting his present. So he sent back to him a mes- 
sage of thanks, and said to his wife, “ I cannot go on 
the pony, now that the Rajah has sent me this fine 
horse ; but how am I ever to ride it? ” “ Oh, don’t be 

frightened,” she answered ; u you’ve only got to get 
upon it, and I will tie you firmly on, so that you cannot 
tumble off, and if you start at night, no one will see 
that you are tied on.” “ Very well,” he said. So that 
night his wife brought the horse that the Rajah had sent 
him to the door. “ Indeed,” said the Chattee-maker, 
“ I can never get into that saddle, it is so high up.” 
u You must jump,” said his wife. So he tried to jump 
several times, but each time he jumped he tumbled down 
again. “ I always forget when I am jumping,” said 
he, “ which way I ought to turn.” “ Your face must 
be toward the horse’s head,” she answered. “To be 


232 Old Deccan Days . 

sure, of course,” he cried, and giving one great jump 
he jumped into the saddle, but with his face toward the 
horse’s tail. “ This won’t do at all,” said his wife as 
she helped him down again ; “ try getting on without 
jumping.” “ I never can remember,” he continued, 
“ when I have got my left foot in the stirrup, what to 
do with my right foot or where to put it.” “ That must 
go in the other stirrup,” she answered ; “ let me help 
you.” So, after many trials, in which he tumbled down 
very often, for the horse was fresh and did not like 
standing still, the Chattee-maker got into the saddle ; 
but no sooner had he got there than he cried, “ Oh, 
wife, wife ! tie me very firmly as quickly as possible, 
for I know I shall jump down if I can.” Then she 
fetched some strong rope and tied his feet firmly into 
the stirrups, and fastened one stirrup to the other, and 
put another rope round his waist and another round his 
neck, and fastened them to the horse’s body and neck 
and tail. 

When the horse felt all these ropes about him he 
could not imagine what queer creature had got upon 
his back, and he began rearing and kicking and pran- 
cing, and at last set off full gallop, as fast as he could 
tear, right across country. “ Wife, wife ! ” cried the 
Chattee-maker, “ you forgot to tie my hands.” u Never 
mind,” said she ; “ hold on by the mane.” So he 
caught hold of the horse’s mane as firmly as he could. 
Then away went horse, away went Chattee-maker — 
away, away, away, over hedges, over ditches, over 
rivers, over plains — away, away, like a flash of light- 
ning — now this way, now that — on, on, on, gallop, 
gallop, gallop — until they came in sight of the enemy’s 
camp. 


The Valiant Chattee-Maker . 


233 


The Chattee-maker did not like his ride at all, and 
when he saw where it was leading him he liked it still 
less, for he thought the enemy would catch him and 
very likely kill him. So he determined to make one 
desperate effort to be free, and stretching out his hand 
as the horse shot past a young banyan tree, seized hold 
of it with all his might, hoping that the resistance it 
offered might cause the ropes that tied him to break. 
But the horse was going at his utmost speed, and the 
soil in which the banyan tree grew was loose, so that 
when the Chattee-maker caught hold of it and gave it 
such a violent pull, it came up by the roots, and on he 
rode as fast as before, with the tree in his hand. 

All the soldiers in the camp saw him coming, and 
having heard that an army was to be sent against them, 
made sure that the Chattee-maker was one of the van- 
guard. 41 See,” cried they, “ here comes a man of 
gigantic stature on a mighty horse ! He rides at full 
speed across the country, tearing up the very trees in 
his rage ! He is one of the opposing force ; the whole 
army must be close at hand. If they are such as he, 
we are all dead men.” Then, running to their Rajah, 
some of them cried again, “ Here comes the whole 
force of the enemy” (for the story had by this time 
become exaggerated) ; “ they are men of gigantic stat- 
ure, mounted on mighty horses ; as they come they tear 
up the very trees in their rage ; we can oppose men, 
but not monsters such as these.” These were followed 
by others, who said, “ It is all true,” for by this time 
the Chattee-maker had got pretty near the camp ; 
“ they’re coming ! they’re coming ! let us fly ! let us 
fly ! fly, fly for your lives ! ” And the whole panic- 
stricken multitude fled from the camp (those who had 
20 * 


234 


Old Deccan Days . 


seen no cause for alarm going because the others did, 
or because they did not care to stay by themselves), 
after having obliged their Rajah to write a letter to the 
one whose country he was about to invade to say that 
he would not do so, and propose terms of peace, and 
1o sign it and seal it with his seal. Scarcely had all 
the people fled from the camp when the horse on which 
the Chattee-maker was came galloping into it, and on 
his back rode the Chattee-maker, almost dead from 
fatigue, with the banyan tree in his hand : just as he 
reached the camp the ropes by which he was tied broke, 
and he fell to the ground. The horse stood still, too 
tired with his long run to go farther. On recovering 
his senses, the Chattee-maker found, to his surprise, 
that the whole camp, full of rich arms, clothes and 
trappings, was entirely deserted. In the principal tent, 
moreover, he found a letter addressed to his Rajah, 
announcing the retreat of the invading army and pro- 
posing terms of peafce. 

So he took the letter, and returned home with it as 
fast as he could, leading his horse all the way, for he 
was afraid to mount him again. It did not take him 
long to reach his house by the direct road, for whilst 
iiding he had gone a more circuitous journey than was 
necessary, and he got there just at nightfall. His wife 
ran out to meet him, overjoyed at his speedy return. 
As soon as he saw her, he said, “ Ah, wife, since I saw 
you last I’ve been all round the world, and had many 
wonderful and terrible adventures. But never mind that 
now : send this letter quickly to the Rajah by a mes- 
senger, and send the horse also that he sent for me 
to ride. He will then see, by the horse looking so 
tired, what a long ride I’ve had ; and if he is sent on 


The Valiant Chattee-Maker . 235 

beforehand, I shall not be obliged to ride him up to the 
palace door to-morrow morning, as I otherwise should, 
and that would be very tiresome, for most likely I 
should tumble off.” So his wife sent the horse and the 
letter to the Rajah, and a message that her husband 
would be at the palace early next morning, as it was 
then late at night. And next day he went down there, 
as he had said he would ; and when the people saw 
him coming, they said, u This man is as modest as he 
is brave ; after having put our enemies to flight, he 
walks quite simply to the door, instead of riding here 
in state, as another man would.” For they did not 
mow that the Chattee-maker walked because he was 
afraid to ride. 

The Rajah came to the palace door to meet him, and 
paid him all possible honor. Terms of peace were 
agreed upon between the two countries, and the Chatte- 
maker was rewarded for all he had done by being 
given twice as much rank and wealth as he had before, 
and he lived very happily all the rest of his life. 





XVII. 

THE RAKSHAS' PALACE . 

O NCE upon a time there lived a Rajah who was 
left a widower with two little daughters. Not 
very long after his first wife died he married again, and 
his second wife did not care for her step-children, and 
was often unkind to them ; and the Rajah, their father, 
never troubled himself to look after them, but allowed 
his wife to treat them as she liked. This made the 
poor girls very miserable, and one day one of them 
said to the other, “ Don’t let us remain any longer 
here ; come away into the jungle, for nobody here cares 
whether we go or stay.” So they both walked off into 
the jungle, and lived for many days on the jungle fruits. 
At last, after they had wandered on for a long while, 
they came to a fine palace which belonged to a Rakshas, 
but both the Rakshas and his wife were out when they 
got there. Then one of the Princesses said to the 
other, “ This fine palace, in the midst of the jungle, can 
belong to no one but a Rakshas, but the owner has 
evidently gone out ; let us go in and see if we can find 
anything to eat.” So they went into the Rakshas’ 
house, and finding some rice, boiled and ate it. Then 
they swept the room and arranged all the furniture in 
the house tidily. But hardly had they finished doing 
so when the Rakshas and his wife returned home. 
23f 




The Rakshas ’ Palace. 


237 

Then the two Princesses were so frightened that they 
ran up to the top of the house and hid themselves on 
the flat roof, from whence they could look down on one 
side into the inner courtyard of the house, and from 
the other could see the open country. The house-top 
was a favorite resort of the Rakshas and his wife. Here 
they would sit upon the hot summer evenings ; here they 
winnowed the grain and hung out the clothes to dry ; 
and the two Princesses found a sufficient shelter behind 
some sheaves of corn that were waiting to be threshed. 
When the Rakshas came into the house, he looked 
round and said to his wife, u Somebody has been 
arranging the house, everything in it is so clean and 
tidy. Wife, did you do this?” u No,” she said; “1 
don’t know who can have done all this.” “ Some one 
also has been sweeping the courtyard,” continued the 
Rakshas. “Wife, did you sweep the courtyard?’ 
“No.” she answered, “I did not do it. I don’t know 
who did.” Then the Rakshas walked round and round 
several times with his nose up in the air, saying, 
“ Some one is here now. I smell flesh and blood ! 
Where can they be?” “Stuff and nonsense!” cried 
his wife. “ You smell blood indeed ! Why, you have 
just been killing and eating a hundred thousand peo- 
ple. I should wonder if you didn’t still smell flesh 
and blood !” They went on quarreling thus until 
the Rakshas said, “ Well, never mind ; I don’t know 
how it is, but I’m very thirsty ; let’s come and drink 
some water.” So both the Rakshas and his wife 
went to a well which was close to the house, and 
began letting down jars into it, and drawing up the 
water and drinking it.* And the Princesses, who were 
on the top of the house, saw them. Now the youngest 


23 s 


Old Deccan Days. 


of the two Princesses was a very wise girl, and when 
she saw the Rakshas and his wife by the well, she said 
to her sister, “ I will do something now that will be 
good for us both and, running down quickly from 
the top of the house, she crept close behind the Rak- 
shas and his wife as they stood on tip-toe more than 
half ovei the side of the well, and, catching hold of 
one of the Rakshas’ heels and one of his wife’s, gave 
each a little push, and down they both tumbled into the 
well and were drowned — the Rakshas and the Rakshas’ 
wife ! The Princess then returned to her sister and 
said, “I have killed the Rakshas.” “What, both?” 
cried her sister. “Yes, both,” she said. “Won’t 
they come back?” said her sister. “No, never,” an- 
swered she. 

The Rakshas being thus killed, the two Princesses 
took possession of the house, and lived there very hap- 
pily for a long time. In it they found heaps and heaps 
of rich clothes and jewels, and gold and silver, which 
the Rakshas had taken from people he had murdered ; 
and all round the house were folds for the flocks and 
sheds for the herds of cattle which the Rakshas owned. 
Every morning the youngest Princess used to drive out 
the flocks and herds to pasturage, and return home 
with them every night, while the eldest stayed at home, 
cooked the dinner and kept the house ; and the young- 
est Princess, who was the cleverest, would often say to 
her sister, on going away for the day, “ Take care, if 
you see any stranger (be it man, woman or child) 
come by the house, to hide, if possible, that nobody 
may know of our living here ; and if any one should 
call out and ask for a drink of water, or any poor 
beggar pray for food, before you give it him be sure 


The Rakshas ’ Palace. 


2 39 


you put on ragged clothes and cover your face with 
charcoal, and make yourself look as ugly as possible, 
lest, seeing how fair you are, he should steal you 
away, and we never meet again.” “ Very well,” the 
other Princess would answer, “ I will do as you advise.” 

But a long time passed, and no one ever came by 
that way. At last one day, after the youngest Princess 
had gone out, a young Prince, the son of a neighboring 
Rajah, who had been hunting with his attendants for 
many days in the jungles, came near the place when 
searching for water (for he and his people were tired 
with hunting, and had been seeking all through the 
jungle for a stream of water, but could find none). 
When the Prince saw the fine palace standing all by 
itself, he was very much astonished, and said, “It is a 
strange thing that any one should have built such a 
house as this in the depths of the forest. Let us go in ; 
the owners will doubtless give us a drink of water.” 
“No, no, do not go,” cried his attendants; “this is 
most likely the house of a Rakshas.” “ We can but 
see,” answered the Prince. “ I should scarcely think 
anything very terrible lived here, for there is not a 
sound stirring nor a living creature to be seen.” So 
he began tapping at the door, which was bolted, and 
crying, “Will whoever owns this house give me and 
my people some water to drink, for the sake of kind 
charity?” But nobody answered, for the Princess, 
who heard him, was busy up in her room, blacking her 
face with charcoal and covering her rich dress with 
rags. Then the Prince got impatient and shook the 
door, saying, angrily, “Let me in, whoever you are ! 
If you don’t, I’ll force the door open.” At this the 
poor little Princess got dreadfully frightened ; and hav- 


240 


Old Deccan Days. 


ing blacked her face and made herself look as ugly as 
possible, she ran down stairs with a pitcher of water, 
and unbolting the door, gave the Prince the pitcher to 
drink from ; but she did not speak, for she was afraid. 
Now the Prince was a very clever man, and as he 
raised the pitcher to his mouth to drink the water, he 
thought to himself, “ This is a very strange-looking 
creature who has brought me this jug of water. She 
would be pretty, but that her face seems to want wash- 
ing, and her dress also is very untidy. What can that 
black stuff be on her face and hands ? it looks very un- 
natural.” And so thinking to himself, instead of 
drinking the water, he threw it in the Princess’ face ! 
The Princess started back with a little cry, whilst the 
water, trickling down her face, washed off the char- 
coal, and showed her delicate features and beautiful, 
fair complexion. The Prince caught hold of her hand, 
and said, “ Now tell me true, who are you ? where do 
you come from ? Who are your father and mother ? 
and why are you here alone by yourself in the jungle ? 
Answer me, or I’ll cut your head off.” And he made 
as if he would draw his sword. The Princess was so 
terrified she could hardly speak, but as best she could 
she told how she was the daughter of a Rajah, and had 
run away into the jungle because of her cruel step- 
mother, and, finding the house, had lived there ever 
since ; and having finished her story, she began to cry. 
Then the Prince said to her, “ Pretty lady, forgive me 
for my roughness ; do not fear ; I will take you home 
with me, and you shall be my wife.” But the more he 
spoke to her the more frightened she got. So fright- 
ened that she did not understand what he said, and 
could do nothing but cry. Now she had said nothing 


The Rakshas ’ Palace. 


241 


to the Prince about her sister, nor even told him that 
she had one, for she thought, u This man says he will 
kill me ; if he hears that I have a sister, he will kill 
her too.” So the Prince, who was really kind-hearted, 
and would never have thought of separating the two 
little sisters who had been together so long, knew no- 
thing at all of the matter, and only seeing she was too 
much alarmed even to understand gentle words, said 
to his servants, “ Place this lady in one of the palkees, 
and let us set off home.” And they did so. When 
the Princess found herself shut up in the palkee, and 
being carried she knew not where, she thought how 
terrible it would be for her sister to return home and 
find her gone, and determined, if possible, to leave 
some sign to show her which way she had been taken. 
Round her neck were many strings of pearls. She 
untied them, and tearing her saree into little bits, tied 
one pearl in each piece of the saree, that it might be 
heavy enough to fall straight to the ground ; and so 
she went on, dropping one pearl and then another and 
another and another, all the way she went along, until 
they reached the palace where the Rajah and Ranee, 
the Prince’s father and mother, lived. She threw the 
last remaining pearl down just as she reached the 
palace gate. The old Rajah and Ranee were delighted 
to see the beautiful Princess their son had brought 
home ; and when they heard her story they said, “ Ah, 
poor thing ! what a sad story ! but now she has come 
to live with us, we will do all we can to make her 
happy.” And they married her to their son with great 
pomp and ceremony, and gave her rich dresses and 
jewels, and were very kind to her. But the Princess 
remained sad and unhappy, for she was always think- 
21 L 


242 Old Deccan Days . 

ing about her sister, and yet she could not summon 
courage to beg the Prince or his father to send and 
fetch her to the palace. 

Meantime the youngest Princess, who had been out 
with her flocks and herds when the Prince took her 
sister away, had returned home. When she came 
back she found the door wide open and no one stand- 
ing there. She thought it very odd, for her sister al- 
ways came every night to the door to meet her on her 
return. She went up stairs ; her sister was not there ; 
the whole house was empty and deserted. There she 
must stay all alone, for the evening had closed in, and 
it was impossible to go outside and seek her with any 
hope of success. So all the night long she waited, cry- 
ing, “ Some one has been here, and they have stolen 
her away ; they have stolen my darling away. O sis- 
ter ! sister !” Next morning, very early, going out to 
continue the search, she found one of the pearls be- 
longing to her sister’s necklace tied up in a small piece 
of saree ; a little farther on lay another, and yet 
another, all along the road the Prince had gone. 
Then the Princess understood that her sister had left 
this clue to guide her on her way, and she at once set 
off to find her again. Very, very far she went — a six 
months’ journey through the jungle, for she could not 
travel fast, the many days’ walking tired her so much — 
and sometimes it took her two or three days to find the 
next piece of saree with the pearl. At last she came 
near a large town, to which it was evident her sister 
had been taken. Now this young Princess was very 
beautiful indeed — as beautiful as she was wise — and 
when she got near the town she thought to herself, “If 
people see me, they may steal me away, as they did my 


The Rakshas ’ Palace. 


2 43 


sister, and then I shall never find her again. I will 
therefore disguise myself.” As she was thus thinking 
she saw by the side of the road the corpse of a poor 
old beggar woman, who had evidently died from want 
and poverty. The body was shriveled up, and nothing 
of it remained but the skin and bones. The Princess 
took the skin and washed it, and drew it on over her 
own lovely face and neck, as one draws a glove on 
one’s hand. Then she took a long stick and began 
hobbling along, leaning on it, toward the town. The 
old woman’s skin was all crumpled and withered, and 
people who passed by only thought, “ What an ugly 
old woman !” and never dreamed of the false skin and 
the beautiful, handsome girl inside. So on she went, 
picking up the pearls — one here, one there — until she 
found the last pearl just in front of the palace gate. 
Then* she felt certain her sister must be somewhere 
near, but where she did not know. She longed to go 
into the palace and ask for her, but no guards would 
have let such a wretched-looking old woman enter, and 
she did not dare offer them any of the pearls she had 
with her, lest they should think she was a thief. So 
she determined merely to remain as close to the palace 
as possible, and wait till fortune favored her with the 
means of learning something further about her sister. 
Just opposite the palace was a small house belonging 
to a farmer, and the Princess went up to it and stood 
by the door. The farmer’s wife saw, her and said, 
“ Poor old woman, who are you? what do you want? 
why are you here? Have you no friends?” “Alas, 
no!” answered the Princess. “I am a poor old 
woman, and have neither father nor mother, son nor 
daughter, sister nor brother, to take care of me ; all 


244 0 /# Deccan Days . 

are gone ? and I can only beg my bread from door to 
door ” 

“ Do not grieve, good mother,” answered the farm- 
er’s wife, kindly. “ You may sleep in the shelter of 
our porch, and I will give you some food.” So the 
Princess stayed there for that night and for many more ; 
and every day the good farmer’s wife gave her food. 
But all this time she could learn nothing of her sister. 

Now there was a large tank near the palace, on 
which grew some fine lotus plants, covered with rich 
crimson lotuses — the royal flower — and of these the 
Rajah was very fond indeed, and prized them very 
much. To this tank (because it was the nearest to the 
farmer’s house) the Princess used to go every morning, 
very early, almost before it was light, at about three 
o’clock, and take off the old woman’s skin and wash 
it, and hang it out to dry, and wash her face and hands, 
and bathe her feet in the cool water, and comb her 
beautiful hair. Then she would gather a lotus flower 
(such as she had been accustomed to wear in her hair 
from a child) and put it on, so as to feel for a few min- 
utes like herself again ! Thus she would amuse her- 
self. Afterward, as soon as the wind had dried the 
old woman’s skin, she put it on again, threw away the 
lotus flower, and hobbled back to the farmer’s door be- 
fore the sun was up. 

After a time the Rajah discovered that some one had 
plucked some of his favorite lotus flowers. People 
were set to watch, and all the wise men in the king- 
dom put their heads together to try and discover the 
thief, but without avail. At last the excitement about 
this matter being very great, the Rajah’s second son, a 
brave and noble young Prince (brother to him who 


The Rakshas ’ Palace. 


H5 


had found the eldest Princess in the forest) said, “I 
will certainly discover this thief.” It chanced that 
several fine trees grew around the tank. Into one of 
these the young Prince climbed one evening (having 
made a sort of light thatched roof across two of the 
boughs, to keep off the heavy dews), and there he 
watched all the night tly'ough, but with no more suc- 
cess than his predecessors. There lay the lotus plants, 
still in the moonlight, without so much as a thieving 
wind coming by to break off one of the flowers. The 
Prince began to get very sleepy, and thought the de- 
linquent, whoever he might be, could not intend to 
return, when, in the very early morning, before it was 
light, who should come down to the tank but an old 
woman he had often seen near the palace gate. 
“ Aha !” thought the Prince, “ this then is the thief ; 
but what can this queer old woman want with lotus 
flowers?” Imagine his astonishment when the old 
woman sat down on the steps of the tank and began 
pulling the skin off her face and arms, and from un- 
derneath the shriveled yellow skin came the loveliest 
face he had ever beheld ! So fair, so fresh, so young, 
so gloriously beautiful, that, appearing thus suddenly, 
it dazzled the Prince’s eyes like a flash of golden 
lightning. “ Ah,” thought he, “ can this be a woman 
or a spirit? a devil or an angel in disguise?” 

The Princess twisted up her glossy black hair, and, 
plucking a red lotus, placed it in it, and dabbled her 
feet in the water, and amused herself by putting round 
her neck a string of pearls that had been her sister’s 
necklace. Then, as the sun was rising, she threw away 
the lotus, and covering her face and arms again with 
the withered skin, went hastily away. When the 


Old Deccan Days. 


246 

Prince got home, the first thing he said to his parents 
was, “Father, mother! I should like to marry that 
old woman who stands all day at the farmer’s gate, just 
opposite.” “ What !” cried they, “ the boy is mad !” 
Marry that skinny old thing! You cannot — you are a 
King’s son. Are there not enough Queens and Prin- 
cesses in the world, that you should wish to marry a 
wretched old beggar-woman ?” But he answered, 
“Above all things I should like to marry that old 
woman. You know that I have ever been a dutiful 
and obedient son. In this matter, I pray you, grant 
me my desire.” Then, seeing he was really in earnest 
about the matter, and that nothing they could say would 
alter his mind, they listened to his urgent entreaties — 
not, however, without much grief and vexation — and 
sent out the guards, who fetched the old woman (who 
was really the Princess in disguise) to the palace, 
where she was married to the Prince as privately and 
with as little ceremony as possible, for the family were 
ashamed of the match. 

As soon as the wedding was over, the Prince said to 
his wife, “ Gentle wife, tell me how much longer you 
intend to wear that old skin? You had better take it 
oft'; do be so kind.” The Princess wondered how he 
knew of her disguise, or whether it was only a guess 
of his ; and she thought, “ If I take this ugly skin off, 
my husband will think me pretty, and shut me up in 
the palace and never let me go away, so that I shall 
not be able to find my sister again. No, I had better 
not take it off.” So she answered, “ I don’t know what 
you mean. I am as all these years have made me ; 
nobody can change their skin.” Then the Prince pre- 
tended to be very angry, and said, “Take off that 


The Rakshas ’ Palace. 


H7 


hideous disguise this instant, or I’ll kill you.” But she 
only bowed her head, saying, “Kill me, then, but no- 
body can change their skin.” And all this she mum- 
bled as if she were a very old woman indeed, and had 
lost all her teeth and could not speak plain. At this 
the Prince laughed very much to himself, and thought, 
“ I’ll wait and see how long this freak lasts.” But the 
Princess continued to* keep on the old woman’s skin ; 
only every morning, at about three o’clock, before it 
was light, she would get up and wash it and put it on 
again. Then, some time afterward, the Prince, hav- 
ing found this out, got up softly one morning early, and 
followed her to the next room, where she had. washed 
the skin and placed it on the floor to dry, and stealing 
it, he ran away with it and threw it on the fire. So 
the Princess, having no old woman’s skin to put on, 
was obliged to appear in her own likeness. As she 
walked forth, very sad at missing her disguise, her hus- 
band ran to meet her, smiling and saying, “ How do 
you do, my dear? Where is your skin now? Can’t 
you take it off, dear?” Soon the whole palace had 
heard the joyful news of the beautiful young wife that 
the Prince had won ; and all the people, when they 
saw her, cried, “ Why she is exactly like the beautiful 
Princess our young Rajah married, the jungle lady.” 
The old Rajah and Ranee were prouder than all of 
their daughter-in-law, and took her to introduce her to 
their eldest son’s wife. Then no sooner did the Prin- 
cess enter her sister-in-law’s room then she saw that in 
her she had found her lost sister, and they ran into each 
other’s arms. Great then was the joy of all, but the 
happiest of all these happy people were the two Prin- 
cesses. 



XVIII. 

THE BLIND MAN, THE DEAF MAN AND THE 
DONKEY. 

BLIND Man and a Deaf Man once entered into 



partnership. The Deaf Man was to see for the 
Blind Man, and the Blind Man was to hear for the 
Deaf Man. 

One day both went to a nautch* together. The Deaf 
Man said, “ The dancing is very good, but the music is 
not worth listening to and the Blind Man said, “ On 
the contrary, I think the music very good, but the dan- 
cing is not worth looking at.” 

After this they went together for a walk in the jungle, 
and there they found a Dhobee’s donkey that had 
strayed away from its owner, and a great big chattee 
(such as Dhobees boil clothes in), which the donkey was 
carrying with him. 

The Deaf Man said to the Blind Man, “ Brother, 
here are a donkey and a Dhobee’s great big chattee, 
with nobody to own them ! Let us take them with us — 
they may be useful to us some day.” “ Very well,” 
said the Blind Man, “ we will take them with us.” So 
the Blind Man and the Deaf Man went on their way, 
taking the donkey and the great big chattee with them. 
A little farther on they came to an ant’s nest, and the 


* Musical and dancing entertainment. 


248 


The Blind Man , Deaf Man and Donkey. 249 

Deaf Man said to the Blind Man, u Here are a number 
of very fine black ants, much larger than any I ever 
saw before. Let us take some of them home to show 
our friends.” “ Very well,” answered the Blind Man ; 
u we will take them as a present to our friends.” So 
the Deaf Man took a silver snuff-box out of his pocket, 
and put four or five of the finest black ants into it ; 
which done, they continued their journey. 

But before they had gone very far a terrible storm 
came on. It thundered and lightened and rained and 
blew with such fury that it seemed as if the whole 
heavens and earth were at war. “ Oh dear ! oh dear ! ” 
cried the Deaf Man, “ how dreadful this lightning is ! 
Let us make haste and get to some place of shelter.” 
u I don’t see that it’s dreadful at all,” answered the 
Blind Man, “but the thunder is very terrible ; we had 
better certainly seek some place of shelter.” 

Now, not far off was a lofty building, which looked 
exactly like a fine temple. The Deaf Man saw it, and 
he and the Blind Man resolved to spend the night there ; 
and having reached the place, they went in and shut the 
door, taking the donkey and the great big chattee with 
them. But this building, which they mistook for a 
temple, was in truth no temple at all, but the house of 
a very powerful Rakshas ; and hardly had the Blind 
Man, the Deaf Man and the donkey got inside and 
fastened the door than the Rakshas, who had been 
out, returned home. To his surprise, he found the 
door fastened and heard people moving about inside 
his house. “ Ho ! ho ! ” cried he to himself, “ some 
men have got in here, have they ! I’ll soon make 
mince-meat of them.” So he began to roar in a voice 
louder than the thunder, and he cried, “ Let me into 


250 


Old Deccan Days. 


my house this minute, you wretches ; let me in, let me 
in, I say,” and to kick the door and batter it with his 
great fists. But though his voice was very powerful, 
his appearance was still more alarming, insomuch that 
the Deaf Man, who was peeping at him through a 
chink in the wall, -felt so frightened that he did not 
know what to do. But the Blind Man was very brave 
(because he couldn’t see), and went up to the door and 
called out, “ Who are you? and what do you mean by 
coming battering at the door in this way and at this 
time of night?” 

u I’m a Rakshas,” answered the Rakshas, angrily, 
u and this is my house. Let me in this instant, or I’ll 
kill you.” All this time the Deaf Man, who was 
watching the Rakshas, was shivering and shaking in 
a terrible fright, but the Blind Man was very brave 
(because he couldn’t see), and he called out again, 
“ Oh, you’re a Rakshas, are you ! Well, if you’re 
Rakshas, I’m Bakshas ; and Bakshas is as good as 
Rakshas.” “ Bakshas ! ” roared the Rakshas. “ Bak- 
shas ! Bakshas ! What nonsense is this ? There is no 
such creature as a Bakshas ! ” “ Go away,” replied 

the Blind Man, u and don’t dare to make any further 
disturbance, lest I punish you with a vengeance ; for 
know that I’m Bakshas ! and Bakshas is Rakshas’ 
father.” “ My father ? ” answered the Rakshas. “ Hea- 
vens and earth ! Bakshas and my father ! I never 
heard such an extraordinary thing in my life. You 
my father ; and in there ! I never knew my father was 
called Bakshas ! ” 

u Yes,” replied the Blind Man ; “ go away instantly, 
I command you, for I am your father Bakshas.” “ Very 
well,” answered the Rakshas (for he began to get puz- 


The Blind Alan , Deaf Alan and Donkey . 251 

zled and frightened), “ but if you are my father, let me 
first see your face.” (For he thought, u Perhaps they 
are deceiving me.”) The Blind Man and the Deaf Man 
didn’t know what to do ; but at last they opened the 
door a very tiny chink and poked the donkey’s nose 
out. When the Rakshas saw it he thought to himself, 
“ Bless me, what a terribly ugly face my father Bakshas 
has ! ” He then called out, “ O father Bakshas, you 
have a very big, fierce face ; but people have sometimes 
very big heads and very little bodies. Pray let me see 
your body as well as head before I go away.” Then 
the Blind Man and the Deaf Man rolled the great, big 
Dhobee’s chattee with a thundering noise past the chink 
in the door, and the Rakshas, who was watching atten- 
tively, was very -much surprised when he saw this great 
black thing rolling along the floor, and he thought, “ In 
truth, my father Bakshas has a very big body as well 
as a big head. He’s big enough to eat me up altogether. 
I’d better go away.” But still he could not help being 
a little doubtful, so he cried, “ O Bakshas, father Bak- 
shas ! you have indeed got a very big head and a very 
big body ; but do, before I go away, let me hear you 
scream ” (for all Rakshas scream fearfully). Then the 
cunning Deaf Man (who was getting less frightened) 
pulled the silver snuff-box out of his pocket, and took 
the black ants out of it, and put one black ant in the 
donkey’s right ear, and another black ant in the donkey’s 
left ear, and another and another. The ants pinched 
the poor donkey’s ears dreadfully, and the donkey was 
so hurt and frightened he began to bellow as loud as he 
could, “ Eh augh ! eh augh ! eh augh ! augh ! augh ! ” 
and at this terrible noise the Rakshas fled away in a great 
fright, saying, “ Enough, enough, father Bakshas ! the 


Old Deccan Days . 


252 

sound of vour voice would make the most refractoiy 
obedient.” And no sooner had he gone than the Deaf 
Man took the ants out of the donkey’s ears, and he and 
the Blind Man spent the rest of the night in peace and 
comfort. 

Next morning the Deaf Man woke the Blind Man 
early, saying, “ Awake, brother, awake ; here we are 
indeed in luck ! the whole floor is covered with heaps 
of gold and silver and precious stones.” And so it was, 
for the Rakshas owned a vast amount of treasure, and 
the whole house was full of it. “ That is a good thing,” 
said the Blind Man. “ Show me where it is and I will 
help you to collect it.” So they collected as much trea- 
sure as possible and made four great bundles of it. The 
Blind Man took one great bundle, the Deaf Man took 
another, and, putting the other two great bundles on 
the donkey, they started off' to return home. But the 
Rakshas, whom they had frightened away the night 
before, had not gone very far off, and was waiting to 
see what his father Bakshas might look like by daylight. 
He saw the door of his house open and watched atten- 
tively, when out walked — only a Blind Man, a Deaf 
Man and a donkey, who were all three laden with 
large bundles of his treasure. The Blind Man carried 
one bundle, the Deaf Man carried another bundle, and 
two bundles were on the donkey. 

The Rakshas was extremely angry, and immediately 
called six of his friends to help him kill the Blind Man, 
the Deaf Man and the donkey, and recover the trea- 
sure. 

The Deaf Man saw them coming (seven great Rak- 
shas, with hair a yard long and tusks like an elephant’s), 
and was dreadfully frightened ; but the Blind Man was 


The Blind Alan , Deaf Alan and Donkey. 253 

very brave (because he couldn’t see), and said, “ Bro- 
ther, why do you lag behind in that way?” “Oh!” 
answered the Deaf Man, “ there are seven great Rak- 
shas with tusks like an elephant’s coming to kill us ; 
what can we do ?” “ Let us hide the treasure in the 

bushes,” said the Blind Man ; “ and do you lead me to 
a tree ; then I will climb up first, and you shall climb 
up afterward, and so we shall be out of their way.” 
The Deaf Man thought this good advice ; so he pushed 
the donkey and the bundles of treasure into the bushes, 
and led the Blind Man to a high soparee tree that 
grew close by ; but he was a very cunning man, this 
Deaf Man, and instead of letting the Blind Man climb 
up first and following him, he got up first and let the 
Blind Man clamber after, so that he was farther out of 
harm’s way than his friend. 

When the Rakshas arrived at the place and saw 
them both perched out of reach in the soparee tree, he 
said to his friends, “ Let us get on each other’s shoul- 
ders ; we shall then be high enough to pull them 
down.” So one Rakshas stooped down, and the se- 
cond got on his shoulders, and the third on his, and the 
fourth on his, and the fifth on his, and the sixth on 
his ; and the seventh and the last Rakshas (who had 
invited all the others) was just climbing up when the 
Deaf Man (who was looking over the Blind Man’s 
shoulder) got so frightened that in his alarm he caught 
hold of his friend’s arm, crying, “ They’re coming, 
they’re coming !” The Blind Man was not in a very 
secure position, and was sitting at his ease, not know- 
ing how close the Rakshas were. The consequence 
was, that when the Deaf Man gave him this unexpected 
push, he lost his balance and tumbled down on to the 
22 


254 


Old Deccan Days 


neck of the seventh Rakshas, who was just then climb- 
ing up. The Blind Man had no idea where he was, 
but thought he had got on to the branch of some other 
tree ; and, stretching out his hand for something to 
catch hold of, caught hold of the Rakshas’ two great 
ears, and pinched them very hard in his surprise and 
fright. The Rakshas couldn’t think what it was that 
had come tumbling down upon him ; and the weight 
of the Blind Man upsetting his balance, down he also 
fell to the ground, knocking down in their turn the 
sixth, fifth, fourth, third, second and first Rakshas, who 
all rolled one over another, and lay in a confused heap 
at the foot of the tree together. Meanwhile the Blind 
Man called out to his friend, “Where am I? what has 
happened? Where am I? where am I?” The Deaf 
Man (who was safe up in the tree) answered, “Well 
done, brother ! never fear ! never fear ! You’re all 
right, only hold on tight. I’m coming down to help 
you.” But he had not the least intention of leaving 
his place of safety. However, he continued to call 
out, “ Never mind, brother ; hold on as tight as you 
can. I’m coming, I’m coming,” and the more he 
called out, the harder the Blind Man pinched the Rak- 
shas’ ears, which he mistook for some kind of palm 
branches. The six other Rakshas, who htd succeeded, 
after a good deal of kicking, in extricating themselves 
from their unpleasant position, thought they had had 
quite enough of helping their friend, and ran away as 
fast as they could ; and the seventh, thinking from their 
going that the danger must be greater than he ima- 
gined, and being moreover very much afraid of the 
mysterious creature that sat on his shoulders, put his 
hands to the back of his ears and pushed off the Blind 


The Blind Man, Deaf Man and Donkey. 255 

Ma*i, and then (without staying to see who or what 
he was) followed his six companions as fast as he 
could. 

As soon as all the Rakshas were out of sight, the 
Deaf Man came down from the tree, and, picking up 
the Blind Man, embraced him, saying, “ I could not 
have done better myself. You have frightened away 
all our enemies, but you see I came to help you as fast 
as possible.” He then dragged the donkey and the 
bundles of treasure out of the bushes, gave the Blind 
Man one bundle to carry, took the second himself, and 
put the remaining two on the donkey, as before. This 
done, the whole party set off to return home. But 
when they had got nearly out of the jungle the Deaf 
Man said to the Blind Man, “ We are now close to the 
village, but if we take all this treasure home with us, 
we shall run great risk of being robbed. I think our 
best plan would be to divide it equally ; then you shall 
take care of your half, and I will take care of mine, 
and each one can hide his share here in the jungle, or 
wherever pleases him best.” “ Very well,” said the 
Blind Man ; “ do you divide what we have in the 
bundles into two equal portions, keeping one-half your- 
self and giving me the other.” But the cunning Deaf 
Man had no intention of giving up half of the treasure 
to the Blind Man ; so he first took his own bundle of 
treasure and hid it in the bushes, and then he took the 
two bundles off the donkey and hid them in the bushes ; 
and he took a good deal of treasure out of the Blind 
Man’s bundle, which he also hid. Then, taking the 
small quantity that remained, he divided it into two 
equal portions, and placing half before the Blind Man 
and half in front of himself, said, “ There, brother, is 


256 


Old Deccan Days. 


your share to do what you please with.” The Blind 
Man put out his hand, but when he felt what a very 
little heap of treasure it was, he got very angry, and 
cried, “ This is not fair — you are deceiving me ; you 
have kept almost all the treasure for yourself and only 
given me a very little.” “ Oh, oh ! how can you think 
so?” answered the Deaf Man; “but if you will not 
believe me, feel for yourself. See, my heap of treasure 
is no larger than yours.” The Blind Man put out his 
hands again to feel how much his friend had kept ; but 
in front of the Deaf Man lay only a very small heap, 
no larger than what he had himself received. At this 
he got very cross, and said, “ Come, come, this won’t 
do. You think you can cheat me in this way because 
I am blind ; but I’m not so stupid as all that. I carried 
a great bundle of treasure, you carried a great bundle 
of treasure, and there were two great bundles on the 
donkey. Do you mean to pretend that all that made 
no more treasure than these two little heaps ! No, in- 
deed ; I know better than that.” “ Stuff and non- 
sense !” answered the Deaf Man. “ Stuff or no stuff,” 
continued the other, “you are trying to take mein, 
and I won’t be taken in by you.” “ No, I’m not,” 
said the Deaf Man. “Yes, you are,” said the Blind 
Man ; and so they went on bickering, scolding, growl- 
ing, contradicting, until the Blind Man got so enraged 
that he gave the Deaf Man a tremendous box on the 
ear. The blow was so violent that it made the Deaf 
Man hear ! The Deaf Man, very angry, gave his 
neighbor in return so hard a blow in the face that it 
opened the Blind Man’s eyes ! 

So the Deaf Man could hear as well as see ! and the 
Blind Man could see as well as hear ! This astonished 




The Blind Man , Deaf Man and Donkey. 257 

them both so much that they became good friends at 
once. The Deaf Man confessed to having hidden the 
bulk of the treasure, which he thereupon dragged fortn 
from its place of concealment, and, having divided it 
equally, they went home and enjoyed themselves. 

22 * 






XIX. 


MUCH/E LAL. 



NCE upon a time there was a Rajah and Ranee 


who had no children. Long had they wished 
and prayed that the gods would send them a son, but 
it was all in vain — their prayers were not granted. 
One day a number of fish were brought into the royal 
kitchen to be cooked for the Rajah’s dinner, and 
amongst them was one little fish that was not dead, but 
all the rest were dead. Orfe of the palace maid-servants 
seeing this, took the little fish and put him in a basin 
of water. Shortly afterward the Ranee saw him, and 
thinking him very pretty, kept him as a pet ; and be- 
cause she had no children she lavished all her affection 
on the fish and loved him as a son ; and the people 
called him Muchie Rajah (the Fish Prince). In a 
little while Muchie Rajah had grown too long to live 
in the small basin, so they put him in a larger one, and 
then (when he grew too long for that) into a big tub. 
In time, however, Muchie Rajah became too large for 
even the big tub to hold him ; so the Ranee had a tank 
made for him in which he lived very happily, and twice 
a day she fed him with boiled rice. Now, though the 
people fancied Muchie Rajah was only a fish, this was 
not the case. He was, in truth, a young Rajah who 


258 



Muchie Lai. 


259 

had angered the gods, and been by them turned ; nto a 
fish and thrown into the river as a punishment. 

One morning, when the Ranee brought him his 
daily meal of boiled rice, Muchie Rajah called out to 
her and said, u Queen Mother, Queen Mother, I am so 
lonely here all by myself! Cannot you get me a wife?” 
The Ranee promised to try, and sent messengers to all 
the people she knew, to ask if they would allow one 
of their children to marry her son, the Fish Prince. 
But they all answered, “We cannot give one of our 
dear little daughters to be devoured by a great fish, 
ev£n though he is the Muchie Rajah and so high in 
your Majesty’s favor.” 

At news of this the Ranee did not know what to do. 
She was so foolishly fond of Muchie Rajah, however, 
that she resolved to get him a wife at any cost. Again 
she sent out messengers, but this time she gave them a 
great bag containing a lac of gold mohurs,* and said 
to them, u Go into every land until you find a wife for 
my Muchie Rajah, and to whoever will give you a 
child to be the Muchie Raneef you shall give this bag 
of gold mohurs.” The messengers started on their 
search, but for some time they were unsuccessful : not 
even the beggars were to be tempted to sell their chil- 
dren, fearing the great fish would devour them. At last 
one day the messengers came to a village where there 
lived a Fakeer, who had lost his first wife and married 
again. His first wife had had one little daughter, and his 
second wife also had a daughter. As it happened, the 
Fakeer’s second wife hated her little step-daughter, 
always gave her the hardest work to do and the least 
* A lac of gold mohurs is equal to about $750,000. 
f Fish Queen. 


26 o 


Old Deccan Days. 


food to eat, and tried by every means in her power to 
get her out of the way, in order that the child might not 
rival her own daughter. When she heard of the errand 
on which the messengers had come, she sent for them 
when the Fakeer was out, and said to them, “Give me 
the bag of gold mohurs, and you shall take my little 
daughter to marry the Muchie Rajah.” (“For,” she 
thought to herself, “ the great fish will certainly eat the 
girl, and she will thus trouble us no more.”) Then, 
turning to her step-daughter, she said, “ Go down to 
the river and wash your saree, that you may be fit to 
go with these people, who will take you to the Ranee’s 
court.” At these words the poor girl went down to 
the river very sorrowful, for she saw no hope of escape, 
as her father was from home. As she knelt by the 
river-side, washing her saree and crying bitterly, some 
of her tears fell into the hole of an old Seven-headed 
Cobra, who lived on the river-bank. This Cobra was 
a very wise animal, and seeing the maiden, he put his 
head out of his hole, and said to her, “ Little girl, why 
do you cry?” “Oh, sir,” she answered, “I am very 
unhappy, for my father is from home, and my step- 
mother has sold me to the Ranee’s people to be the 
wife of the Muchie Rajah, that great fish, and I know 
he will eat me up.” “ Do not be afraid, my daughter,” 
said the Cobra ; “ but take with you these three stones 
and tie them up in the corner of your saree and so 
saying, he gave her three little round pebbles. “ The 
Muchie Rajah, whose wife you are to be, is not really 
a fish, but a Rajah who has been enchanted. Your 
home will be a little room which the Ranee has had 
built in the tank wall. When you are taken there, wait 
and be sure you don’t go to sleep, or the Muchie Rajah 


Mu chi e Lai . 


261 


will certainly come and eat you up. But as you hear 
him coming rushing through the water, be prepared, and 
as soon as you see him throw this first stone at him ; 
he will then sink to the bottom of the tank. The 
second time he comes, throw the second stone, when 
the same thing will happen. The third time he comes, 
throw this third stone, and he will immediately resume 
his human shape.” So saying, the old Cobra dived 
down again into his hole. The Fakeer’s daughter took 
the stones and determined to do as the Cobra had told 
her, though she hardly believed it would have the 
desired effect. 

When she reached the palace the Ranee spoke kindly 
to her, and said to the messengers, “You have done 
your errand well ; this is a dear little girl.” Then she 
ordered that she should be let down the side of the tank 
in a basket to a little room which had been prepared 
for her. When the Fakeer’s daughter got there, she 
thought she had never seen such a pretty place in her 
life (for the Ranee had caused the little room to be very 
nicely decorated for the wife of her favorite) ; and she 
would have felt very happy away from her cruel step- 
mother and all the hard work she had been made to do, 
had it not been for the dark water that lay black and 
unfathomable below the door, and the fear of the terrible 
Muchie Rajah. 

After waiting some time she heard a rushing sound, 
and little waves came dashing against the threshold ; 
faster they came and faster, and the noise got louder 
and louder, until she saw a great fish’s head above the 
water — Muchie Rajah was coming toward her open- 
mouthed. The Fakeer’s daughter seized one of the 
stones that the Cobra had given her and threw it at 


262 


Old Deccan Days. 


him, and down he sank to the bottom of the tank ; a 
second time he rose and came toward her, and she 
threw the second stone at him, and he again sank 
down ; a third time he came more fiercely than before, 
when, seizing a third stone, she threw it with all her 
force. No sooner did it touch him than the spell was 
broken, and there, instead of a fish, stood a handsome 
young Prince. The poor little Fakeer’s daughter was 
so startled that she began so cry. But the Prince said 
to her, “ Pretty maiden, do not be frightened. You 
have rescued me from a horrible thraldom, and I can 
never thank you enough ; but if you will be the Muchie 
Ranee, we will be married to morrow.” Then he sat 
down on the door-step, thinking over his strange fate 
and watching for the dawn. 

Next morning early several inquisitive people came 
to see if the Muchie Rajah had eaten up his poor little 
wife, as they feared he would ; what was their astonish- 
ment, on looking over the tank wall, to see, not the 
Muchie Rajah, but a magnificent Prince ! The news 
soon spread to the palace. Down came the Rajah, 
down came the Ranee, down came all their attendants 
and dragged Muchie Rajah and the Fakeer’s daughter 
up the side of the tank in a basket ; and when they 
heard their story there were great and unparalleled 
rejoicings. The Ranee said, “ So I have indeed found 
a son at last ! ” And the people were so delighted, so 
happy and so proud of the new Prince and Princess 
that they covered all their path with damask from the 
tank to the palace, and cried to their fellows, u Come 
and see our new Prince and Princess. Were ever any 
so divinely beautiful ? Come see a right royal couple — 
a pair of mortals like the gods ! ” And when they 


Muchie Lai. 263 

reached the palace the Prince was married to the 
Fakeer’s daughter. 

There they lived very happily for some time. The 
Muchie Ranee’s step-mother, hearing what had hap- 
pened, came often to see her step-daughter, and pretend- 
ed to be delighted at her good fortune ; and the Ranee 
was so good that she quite forgave all her step-mother’s 
former cruelty, and always received her very kindly. 
At last, one day, the Muchie Ranee said to her husband, 
“ It is a weary while since I saw my father. If you 
will give me leave, I should much like to visit my native 
village and see him again.” “Very well,” he replied, 
“ you may go. But do not stay away long ; for there 
can be no happiness for me till you return.” So she 
went, and her father was delighted to see her ; but her 
step-mother, though she pretended to be very kind, was, 
in reality, only glad to think she had got the Ranee into 
her power, and determined, if possible, never to allow 
her to return to the palace again. One day, therefore, 
she said to her own daughter, “It is hard that your 
step-sister should have become Ranee of all the land 
instead of being eaten up by the great fish, while we 
gained no more than a lac of gold mohurs. Do now 
as I bid you, that you may become Ranee in her stead.” 
She then went on to instruct her how that she must 
invite the Ranee down to the river-bank, and there beg 
her to let her try on her jewels, and whilst putting them 
on give her a push and drown her in the river. 

The girl consented, and standing by the river-bank, 
said to her step-sister, “ Sister, may I try on your jewels ? 
— how pretty they are ! ” “ Yes,” said the Ranee, “ and 

we shall be able to see in the river how they look.” So, 
undoing her necklaces, she clasped them round the 


264 Old Deccan Days . 

other’s neck. But whilst she was doing so her step- 
sister gave her a push, and she fell backward into the 
water. The girl watched to see that the body did not 
rise, and then, running back, said to her mother, 
u Mother, here are all the jewels, and she will trouble us 
no more.” But it happened that just when her step- 
sister pushed the Ranee into the river her old friend the 
Seven-headed Cobra chanced to be swimming across it, 
and seeing the little Ranee like to be drowned, he car- 
ried her on his back until he reached his hole, into 
which he took her safely. Now this hole, in which the 
Cobra and his wife and all his little ones lived, had two 
entrances — the one under the water and leading to the 
river, and the other above water, leading out into the 
open fields. To this upper end of his hole the Cobra 
took the Muchie Ranee, where he and his wife took 
care of her ; and there she lived with them for some time. 
Meanwhile, the wicked Fakeer’s wife, having dressed 
up her own daughter in all the Ranee’s jewels, took 
her to the palace, and said to the Muchie Rajah, u See, 
I have brought youi # wife, my dear daughter, back safe 
and well.” The Rajah looked at her, and thought, 
“ This does not look like my wife.” However, the 
room was dark and the girl was cleverly disguised, 
and he thought he might be mistaken. Next day he 
said again, “ My wife must be sadly changed or this 
cannot be she, for she was always bright and cheerful. 
She had pretty loving ways and merry words, while 
this woman never opens her lips.” Still, he did not 
like to seem to mistrust his wife, and comforted himself 
by saying, “ Perhaps she is tired with the long journey.” 
On the third day, however, he could bear the uncer- 
tainty no longer, and tearing off her jewels, saw, not the 


Muchie Lai. 


265 

face of his own little wife, but another woman. Then 
he was very angry and turned her out of doors, saying, 
“ Begone ; since you are but the wretched tool of others, 
I spare your life.” But of the Fakeer’s wife he* aid to 
his guards, a Fetch that woman here instantly; for 
unless she can tell me where my wife is, I will have 
her hanged.” It chanced, however, that the Fakeer’s 
wife had heard of the Muchie Rajah having turned her 
daughter out of doors ; so, fearing his anger, she hid 
herself, and was not to be found. 

Meantime, the Muchie Ranee, not knowing how to 
get home, continued to live in the great Seven-headed 
Cobra’s hole, and he and his wife and all his family 
were very kind to her, and loved her as if she had been 
one of them ; and there her little son was born, and 
she called him Muchie Lai,* after the Muchie Rajah, 
his father. Muchie Lai was a lovely child, merry and 
brave, and his playmates all day long were the young 
Cobras.f When he was about three years old a ban- 
gle-seller came by that way, and the Muchie Ranee 
bought some bangles from him and put them on her 
boy’s wrists and ankles ; but by next day, in playing, 
he had broken them all. Then, seeing the bangle- 
seller, the Ranee called him again and bought some 
more, and so on every day until the bangle-seller got 
quite rich from selling so many bangles for the Muchie 
Lai, for the Cobra’s hole was full of treasure, and he 
gave the Muchie Ranee as much money to spend every 
day as she liked. There was nothing she wished for 
he did not give her, only he would not let her try to 
get home to her husband, which she wished more than 
all. When she asked him he would say, “ No, I will 
* Little Ruby Fish. f See Notes at the end. 


23 


M 


266 


Old Deccan Days. 


not let you go. If your husband comes here and 
fetches you, it is well ; but I will not allow you to 
wander in search of him through the land alone.” 

Anc? so she was obliged to stay where she was. 

All this time the poor Muchie Rajah was hunting in 
every part of the country for his wife, but he could 
learn no tidings of her. For grief and sorrow at losing 
her he had gone well-nigh distracted, and did nothing 
but wander from place to place, crying, “ She is gone ! 
she is gone !” Then, when he had long inquired with- 
out avail of all the people in her native village about 
her, he one day met a bangle-seller and said to him, 
“ Whence do you come?” The bangle-seller answered, 
“ I have just been selling bangles to some people who 
live in a Cobra’s hole in the river-bank.” “ People ! 
What people?” asked the Rajah. “ Why,” answered 
the bangle-seller, “ a woman and a child : the child is 
the most beautiful I ever saw. He is about three years 
old, and of course, running about, is always breaking 
his bangles, and his mother buys him new ones every 
day.” u Do you know what the child’s name is?” said 
the Rajah. “Yes,” answered the bangle-seller, care- 
lessly, “ for the lady always calls him her Muchie Lai.” 
“ Ah,” thought the Muchie Rajah, “ this must be my 
wife.” Then he said to him again, “ Good bangle- 
seller, I would see these strange people of whom you 
speak ; cannot you take me there ?” “ Not to-night,” 

replied the bangle-seller ; “ daylight has gone, and we 
should only frighten them ; but I shall be going there 
again to-morrow, and then you may come too. Mean- 
while, come and rest at my house for the night, for you 
look faint and weary.” The Rajah consented. Next 
morning, however, very early, he woke the bangle- 


Muchie Lai. 


267 

seller, saying, “ Pray let 11s go now and see the people 
you spoke about yesterday.” “ Stay,” said the bangle- 
seller ; “ it is much too early. I never go till after 
breakfast.” So the Rajah had to wait till the bangle- 
seller was ready to go. At last they started off, and 
when they reached the Cobra’s hole the first thing the 
Rajah saw was a fine little boy playing with the young 
Cobras. 

As the bangle-seller came along, jingling his bangles, 
a gentle voice from inside the hole called out, “ Come 
here, my Muchie Lai, and try on your bangles.” Then 
the Muchie Rajah, kneeling down at the mouth of the 
hole, said, “ Oh, lady, show your beautiful face to me.” 
At the sound of his voice the Ranee ran out, crying, 
“ Husband, husband ! have you found me again.” 
And she told him how her sister had tried to drown 
her, and how the good Cobra had saved her life and 
taken care of her and her child. Then he said, “And 
will you now come home with me?” And she told 
him how the Cobra would never let her go, and said, 
“ I will first tell him of your coming ; for he has been 
as a father to me.” So she called out, “ Father Cobra, 
father Cobra, my husband has come to fetch me ; will 
you let me go?” “Yes,” he said, “if your husband 
has come to fetch you, you may go.” And his wife 
said, “ Farewell, dear lady, we are loth to lose you, 
for we have loved you as a daughter.” And all the 
little Cobras were very sorrowful to think that they 
must lose their playfellow, the young Prince. T*hen 
the Cobra gave the Muchie Rajah and the Muchie 
Ranee and Muchie Lai all the most costly gifts he 
could find in his treasure-house ; and so they went 
home, where they lived very happy ever after. 



XX. 


CHUNDUN RAJAH. 

NCE upon a time, a Rajah and Ranee died, 



leaving seven sons and one daughter. All these 
seven sons were married, and the wives of the six eldest 
used to be very unkind to their poor little sister-in-law ; 
but the wife of the seventh brother loved her dearly, 
and always took her part against the others. She would 
say, M Poor little thing ! her life is sad. Her mother 
wished so long for a daughter, and then the girl was 
born and the mother died, and never saw her poor 
child, or was able to ask any one to take care of her.” 
At which the wives of the six elder brothers would an- 
swer, “You only take such notice of the girl in order 
to vex us.” Then, while their husbands were away, 
they made up wicked stories against their sister-in-law, 
which they told them on their return home ; and their 
husbands believed them rather than her, and were very 
angry with her and ordered her to be turned out of the 
house. But the wife of the seventh brother did not 
believe what the six others said, and was very kind to 
the little Princess, and sent her secretly as much food 
as she could spare from her own dinner. But as they 
drove her from their door, the six wives of the elder 
brothers cried out, “ Go away, wicked girl, go away, 



Chundun Rajah . 


269 


and never let us see your face again until you marry 
Chundun Rajah !* When you invite us to the wedding, 
and give us, the six eldest, six common wooden stools 
to sit on, but the seventh sister (who always takes your 
part) a fine emerald chair, we will believe you innocent 
of all the evil deeds of which you are accused, but not till 
then !” This they said scornfully, railing at her; for 
Chundun Rajah, of whom they spoke (who was the 
great Rajah of a neighboring country), had been dead 
many months. 

So, sad at heart, the Princess wandered forth into the 
jungle ; and when she had gone through it, she came 
upon another, still denser than the first. The trees 
grew so thickly overhead that she could scarcely see 
the sky, and there was no village or house of living 
creature near. The food her youngest sister-in-law had 
given her was nearly exhausted, and she did not know 
where to get more. At last, however, after journeying 
on for many days, she came upon a large tank, beside 
which was a fine house that belonged to a Rakshas. 
Being very tired, she sat down on the edge of the tank 
to eat some of the parched rice that remained of her 
store of provisions ; and as she did so she thought, 
“ This house belongs doubtless to a Rakshas, who per- 
haps will see me and kill and eat me ; but since no one 
cares for me, and I have neither home nor friends, I 
hold life cheap enough.” It happened, however, that 
the Rakshas was then out, and there was no one in his 
house but a little cat and dog, who were his servants. 

The dog’s duty was to take care of the saffron with 
which the Rakshas colored his face on highdays and 
holidays, and the cat had charge of the antimony with 
* King Sandlewood. 


23 * 


Old Deccan Days. 


*70 

which he blackened his eyelids. Before the Princess 
had been long by the tank, the little cat spied her out, 
and running to her, said, u Oh, sister, sister, I am so 
hungry, pray give me some of your dinner.” The 
Princess answered, “ I have very little rice left ; when 
it is all gone I shall starve. If I give you some, what 
have you to give me in exchange?” The cat said, “ I 
have charge of the antimony with which my Rakshas 
blackens his eyelids — I will give you some of it ;” and 
running to the house she fetched a nice little potful of 
antimony, which she gave to the Princess in exchange 
for the rice. When the little dog saw this, he also ran 
down to the tank, and said, u Lady, lady, give me some 
rice, I pray you, for I, too, am very hungry.” But she 
answered, “ I have very little rice left, and when it is 
all gone I shall starve. If I give you some of my din- 
ner, what will you give me in exchange ?” The dog 
said, u I have charge of my Rakshas’ saffron, with 
which he colors his face. I will give you some of it.” 
So he ran to the house and fetched a quantity of saffron 
and gave it to the Princess, and she gave him also some 
of the rice. Then, tying the antimony and saffron up 
in her saree, she said good-bye to the dog and cat and 
went on her way. 

Three or four days after this, she found she had 
nearly reached the other side of the jungle. The wood 
was not so thick, and in the distance she saw a large 
building that looked like a great tomb. The Princess 
determined to go and see what it was, and whether she 
could find any one there to give her any food, for she 
had eaten all the rice and felt very hungry, and it was 
getting toward night. 

Now the place toward which the Princess went was 


Chundun Rajah . 271 

the tomb of the Chundun Rajah, but this she did not 
know. 

Chundun Rajah had died many months before, and 
his father and mother and sisters, who loved him veiy 
dearly, could not bear the idea of his being buried 
under the cold ground ; so they had built a beautiful 
tomb, and inside it they had placed the body on a bed 
under a canopy, and it had never decayed, but con- 
tinued as fair and perfect as when first put there. 
Every day Chundun Rajah’s mother and sister would 
come to the place to weep and lament from sunrise to 
sunset, but each evening they returned to their own 
homes. Hard by was a shrine and small hut where a 
Brahmin lived, who had charge of the place ; and from 
far and near people used to come to visit the tomb of 
their lost Rajah and see the great miracle, how the 
body of him who had been dead so many months 
remained perfect and undecayed ; but none knew why 
this was. When the Princess got near the place a 
violent storm came on. The rain beat upon her and 
wetted her, and it grew so dark she could hardly see 
where she was going. She would have been afraid to 
go into the tomb had she known about Chundun 
Rajah ; but as it was, the storm being so violent and 
night approaching, she ran in there for shelter as fast 
as she could, and sat down shivering in one corner. By 
the light of an oil lamp that burnt dimly in a niche in 
the wall, she saw in front of her the body of the Rajah 
lying under the canopy, with the heavy jeweled cover- 
lid over him and the rich hangings all round. He 
looked as if he were only asleep, and she did not feel 
frightened. But at twelve o’clock, to her great sur- 
prise, as she was watching and waiting, the Rajah 


27 2 


Old Deccan Days. 


came to life ; and when he saw her sitting shivering in 
the corner, he fetched a light and came toward her and 
said, “ Who are you?” She answered, “ I am a poor 
lonely girl. I only came here for shelter from the storm. 
I am dying of cold and hunger.” And then she told 
him all her story — how that her sisters-in-law had 
falsely accused her, and driven her from among them 
into the jungle, bidding her see their faces no more 
until she married the Chundun Rajah, who had been 
dead so many months ; and how the youngest had been 
kind to her and sent her food, which had prevented 
her from starving by the way. 

The Rajah listened to the Princess’ words, and was 
certain that they were true and she no common beggar 
from the jungles. For, for all her ragged clothes, she 
looked a royal lady, and shone like a star in the dark- 
ness. Moreover, her eyelids were darkened with anti- 
mony and her beautiful face painted with saffron, like 
the face of a Princess. Then he felt a great pity for 
her, and said, “ Lady, have no fear, for I will take 
care of you,” and dragging the rich coverlid off his bed 
he threw it over her to keep her warm, and going to 
the Brahmin’s house, which was close by, fetched some 
rice, which he gave her to eat. Then he said, “ I am 
the Chundun Rajah, of whom you have heard. I die 
every day, but every night I come to life for a little 
while.” She cried, “ Do none of your family know of 
this? and if so, why do you stay here in a dismal 
tomb ?” He answered, “ None know it but the Brah- 
min who has charge of this place. Since my life is 
thus maimed, what would it avail to tell my family ? 
It would but grieve them more than to think me dead. 
Therefore, I have forbidden him to let them know, 


Chundurt Rajah. 


2 73 


and since my parents only come here by day, they have 
never found it out. Maybe I shall some time wholly 
recover, and till then I will be silent about my exist- 
ence.” Then he called the Brahmin who had charge 
of the tomb and the shrine (and who daily placed an 
offering of food upon it for the Rajah to eat when he 
came to life), and said to him, “Henceforth, place a 
double quantity of food upon the shrine, and take care 
of this lady. If I ever recover she shall be my Ranee.” 
And having said these words he died again. Then the 
Brahmin took the Princess to his little hut, and bade 
his wife see that she wanted for nothing, and all the 
next day she rested in that place. Very early in the 
morning Chundun Rajah’s mother and sisters came to 
visit the tomb, but they did not see the Princess ; and 
in the evening, when the sun was setting, they went 
away. That night, when the Chundun Rajah came to 
life, he called the Brahmin, and said to him, “ Is the 
Princess still here?” “Yes,” he answered; “for she 
is weary with her journey, and she has no home to go 
to.” The Rajah said, “ Since she has neither home 
nor friends, if she be willing, you shall marry me to 
her, and she shall wander no further in search of 
shelter.” So the Brahmin fetched his shastra* and 
called all his family as witnesses, and married the 
Rajah to the little Princess, reading prayers over them 
and scattering rice and flowers upon their heads. And 
there the Chundun Ranee lived for some time. She 
was very happy ; she wanted nothing, and the Brah- 
min and his wife took as much care of her as if she had 
been their daughter. Every day she would wait out- 
side the tomb, but at sunset she always returned to it 
* Sacred books. 


274 Deccan Days . 

and watched for her husband to come to life. One 
night she said to him, “ Husband, I am happier to be 
your wife, and hold your hand and talk to you for two 
or three hours every evening, than were I married to 
some great living Rajah for a hundred years. But oh 
what joy it would be if you could come wholly to life 
again ! Do you know what is the cause of your daily 
death ? and what it is that brings you to life each night 
at twelve o’clock ?” 

“ Yes,” he said, “it is because I have lost my Chun- 
dun Har,* the sacred necklace that held my soul. A 
Peri stole it. I was in the palace garden one day, 
when many of those winged ladies flew over my head, 
and one of them, when she saw me, loved me and 
asked me to marry her. But I said no, I would not ; 
and at that she was angry, and tore the Chundun Har 
off' my neck and flew away with it. That instant I fell 
down dead, and my father and mother caused me to 
be placed in this tomb ; but every night the Peri comes 
here and takes my necklace off her neck, and when she 
takes it oft' I come to life again, and she asks me to 
come away with her and marry her, and she does not 
put on the necklace again for two or three hours, wait- 
ing to see if I will consent. During that time I live. 
But when she finds I will not, she puts on the necklace 
again and flies away, and as soon as she puts it on, I 
die.”f 

“Cannot the Peri be caught?” asked the Chun- 
dun Ranee. Her husband answered, “ No, I have 
often tried to seize back my necklace, for if I could re- 
gain it I should come wholly to life again ; but the 
Peri can at will render herself invisible and fly away 
* Sandlewood necklace. f See Notes at the end. 


2 75 


Chundun Rajah. 

with it, so that it is impossible for any mortal man to 
get it.” At this news the Chundun Ranee was sad at 
heart, for she saw no hope of the Rajah’s being restored 
to life ; and grieving over this she became so ill and 
unhappy that even when she had a little baby boy 
born, it did not much cheer her, for she did nothing 
but think, “ This poor child will grow up in this deso- 
late place, and have no kind father day by day to teach 
him and help him as other children have, but only see 
him for a little while by night ; and we are all at the 
mercy of the Peri, who may any day fly quite away 
with the necklace and not return.” The Brahmin, 
seeing how ill she was, said to the Chundun Rajah, 
“The Ranee will die unless she can be somewhere 
where much care will be taken of her, for in my poor 
home my wife and I can do but little for her comfort. 
Your mother and sister are good and charitable ; let 
her go to the palace, where they will only need to see 
she is ill to take care of her.” Now it happened that 
in the palace courtyard there was a great slab of white 
marble, on which the Chundun Rajah would often 
rest on the hot summer days ; and because he used to 
be so fond of it, when he died his father and mother 
ordered that it should be taken great care of, and no 
one was allowed to so much as touch it. Knowing 
this, Chundun Rajah said to his wife, “ You are ill ; I 
should like you to go to the palace, where my mother 
and sisters will take the greatest care of you. Do this, 
therefore : take our child and sit down with him upon 
the great slab of marble in the palace courtyard. I 
^sed to be very fond of it ; and so now for my sake it 
is kept with the greatest care, and no one is allowed 
to so much as touch it. They will most likely see you 


Old Deccan Days. 

there and order you to go away ; but if you then tell 
them you are ill, they will, I know, have pity on you 
and befriend you.” The Chundun Ranee did as her 
husband told her, placing her little boy on the great 
slab of white marble in the palace courtyard and sitting 
down herself beside him. Chundun Rajah’s sister, 
who was looking out of the window, saw her and cried, 
“ Mother, there are a woman and her child resting on 
my brother’s marble slab ; let us tell them to go away.” 
So she ran down to the place, but when she saw Chun- 
dun Ranee and the little boy she was quite astonished, 
the Chundun Ranee was so fair and lovable-looking, 
and the baby was the image of her dead brother. Then 
returning to her mother, she said, “ Mother, she who 
sits upon the marble stone is the prettiest little lady I 
ever saw ; and do not let us blame the poor thing ; she 
says she is ill and weary, and the baby (I know not if 
it is fancy, or the seeing him on that stone) seems to 
me the image of my lost brother.” 

At this the old Ranee and the rest of the family went 
out, and when they saw the Chundun Ranee, they all 
took such a fancy to her and to the child that they 
brought her into the palace, and were very kind to her, 
and took great care of her ; so that in a while she got 
well and strong again, and much less unhappy ; and 
they all made a great pet of the little boy, for they were 
struck with his strange likeness to the dead Rajah ; and 
after a time they gave his mother a small house to live 
in, close to the palace, where they often used to go and 
visit her. There also the Chundun Rajah would go 
each night when he came to life, to laugh and talk with 
his wife and play with his boy, although he still refused 
to tell his father and mother of his existence. One day 


Chundun Rajah. 277 

it happened, however, that the little child told one of 
the Princesses (Chundun Rajah’s sister) how every even- 
ing some one who came to the house used to laugh and 
talk with his mother and play with him, and then go 
away. The Princess also heard the sound of voices in 
Chundun Ranee’s house, and saw lights flickering about 
there when they were supposed to be fast asleep. Of 
this she told her mother, saying, “ Let us go down to- 
morrow night and see what this means ; perhaps the 
woman we thought so poor and befriended thus is 
nothing but a cheat, and entertains all her friends every 
night at our expense.” 

So the next evening they went down softly, softly to 
the place, when they saw, not the strangers they had 
expected, but their long-lost Chundun Rajah. Then, 
since he could not escape, he told them all — how that 
every night for an hour or two he came to life, but was 
dead all day. And they rejoiced greatly to see him 
again, and reproached him for not letting them know 
he ever lived, though for so short a time. He then told 
them how he had married the Chundun Ranee, and 
thanked them for all their loving care of her. 

After this he used to come every night and sit and 
talk with them ; but still each day, to their great sorrow, 
he died ; nor could they divine any means for getting 
back his Chundun Har, which the Peri wore round her 
neck. 

At last one evening, when they were all laughing 
and chatting together, seven Peris flew into the room 
unobserved by them, and one of the seven was the very 
Peri who had stolen Chundun Rajah’s necklace, and 
she held it in her hand. 

All the young Peris were very fond of the Chundun 
24 


Old Deccan Days. 


278 

Rajah and Chundun Ranee’s boy, and used often to 
come and play with him, for he was the image of his 
father’s and mother’s loveliness, and as fair as the morn- 
ing ; and he used to laugh and clap his little hands 
when he saw them coming ; for though men and women 
cannot see Peris, little children can. 

Chundun Rajah was tossing the child up in the air 
when the Peris flew into the room, and the little boy 
was laughing merrily. The winged ladies fluttered 
round the Rajah and the child, and she that had the 
necklace hovered over his head. Then the boy, seeing 
the glittering necklace which the Peri held, stretched 
out his little arms and caught hold of it, and as he seized 
it the string broke, and all the beads fell upon the floor. 
At this the seven Peris were frightened and flew away, 
and the Chundun Ranee, collecting the beads, strung 
them and hung them round the Rajah’s neck ; and there 
was great joy amongst those that loved him, because he 
had recovered the sacred necklace, and that the spell 
which doomed him to death was broken. 

The glad news was soon known throughout the king- 
dom, and all the people were happy and proud to hear 
it, crying, “We have lost our young Rajah for such a 
long, long time, and now one little child has brought 
him back to life.” And the old Rajah and Ranee 
(Chundun Rajah’s father and mother) determined that 
he should be married again to the Chundun Ranee with 
great pomp and splendor, and they sent letters into all 
the kingdoms of the world, saying, “ Our son the Chun- 
dun Rajah has come to life again, and we pray you 
come to his wedding.” 

Then, among those who accepted the invitation, were 
the Chundun Ranee’s seven brothers and their seven 


279 


Chundun Rajah. 

wives ; and for her six sisters-in-law, who had been so 
cruel to her and caused her to be driven out into the 
jungle, the Chundun Ranee prepared six common 
wooden stools ; but for the seventh, who had been kind 
to her, she made ready an emerald throne and a foot- 
stool adorned with emeralds. 

When all the Ranees were taken to their places, the 
six eldest complained, saying, “How is this? Six of 
us are given only common wooden stools to sit upon, 
but the seventh has an emerald chair ?” Then the Chun- 
dun Ranee stood up, and before the assembled guests 
told them her story, reminding her six elder sisters-in- 
law of their former taunts, and how they had forbidden 
her to see them again until the day of her marriage 
with the Chundun Rajah, and she explained how un- 
justly they had accused her to her brothers. When the 
Ranees heard this they were struck dumb with fear and 
shame, and were unable to answer a word ; and all 
their husbands, being much enraged to learn how they 
had conspired to kill their sister-in-law, commanded 
that these wicked woman should be instantly hanged, 
which was accordingly done. Then, on the same day 
that the Chundun Rajah remarried their sister, the six 
elder brothers were married to six beautiful ladies of 
the court amid great and unheard-of rejoicings, and 
from that day they all lived together in perfect peace 
and harmony until their lives’ end. 



XXI. 


SODEWA BAI. 



NCE upon a time there lived a Rajah and Ranee, 


who had one only daughter, and she was the 
most beautiful Princess in the world. Her face was as 
fair and delicate as the clear moonlight, and they called 
her Sodewa Bai.* At her birth her father and mother 
had sent for all the wise men in the kingdom to tell her 
fortune, and they predicted that she would grow up 
richer and more fortunate than any other lady ; and so 
it was, for from her earliest youth she was good and 
lovely, and whenever she opened her lips to speak 
pearls and precious stones fell upon the ground, and as 
she walked along they would scatter on either side of 
her path, insomuch that her father soon became the 
richest Rajah in all that country, for his daughter could 
not go across the room without shaking down jewels 
worth a dowry. Moreover, Sodewa Bai was born 
with a golden necklace about her neck, concerning 
which also her parents consulted astrologers, who said, 
“ This is no common child ; the necklace of gold about 
her neck contains your daughter’s soul : let it therefore 
, be guarded with the utmost care, for if it were taken 
off and worn by another person she would die.” So 
the Ranee, her mother, caused it to be firmly fastened 


* The Lady Good Fortune. 


280 


Sodewa Bai. 


281 


round the child’s neck, and as soon as she was old 
enough to understand, instructed her concerning its 
value, and bade her on no account ever to allow it to 
be taken off. 

At the time my story begins this Princess was four- 
teen years old, but she was not married, for her father 
and mother had promised that she should not do so 
until it pleased herself; and although many great 
rajahs and nobles sought her hand, she constantly 
refused them all. 

Now Sodewa Bai’s father, on one of her birth-days, 
gave her a lovely pair of slippers made of gold and 
jewels. Each slipper was worth a hundred thousand 
gold mohurs. There were none like them in all the 
earth. Sodewa Bai prized these slippers very much, 
and always wore them when she went out walking, to 
protect her tender feet from the stones ; but one day, as 
she was wandering with her ladies upon the side of the 
mountain on which the palace was built, playing and 
picking the wild flowers, her foot slipped and one of the 
golden slippers fell down, down, down the steep hill- 
slope, over rocks and stones, into the jungle below. 
Sodewa Bai sent attendants to search for it, and the 
Rajah caused criers to go throughout the town and 
proclaim that whoever discovered the Princess’ slipper 
should receive a great reward ; but though it was 
hunted for far and near, high and low, it could not be 
found. 

It chanced, however, that not very long after this a 
young Prince, the eldest son of a Rajah who lived in 
the plains, was out hunting, and in the jungle he picked 
up the very little golden slipper which Sodewa Bai had 
lost, and which had tumbled all the way from the 
24 * 


282 


Old Deccan Days. 


mountain-side into the depths of the forest. He took 
it home with him, and showed it to his mother, saying, 
“ What a fairy foot must have worn this tiny slipper !” 
“Ah, my boy,” she said, “this must have belonged to 
a lovely Princess, in truth (if she is but as beautiful as 
her slipper) ; would that you could find such a one to 
be your wife !” Then they sent into all the towns 
of the kingdom to inquire for the owner of the lost 
slipper, but she could not be found. At last, when 
many months had gone by, it happened that news was 
brought by travelers to the Rajah’s capital, of how, in 
a far distant land, very high among the mountains, 
there lived a beautiful Princess who had lost her slip- 
per, and whose father had offered a great reward to 
whoever should restore it ; and from the description 
they gave all were assured it was the one that the 
Prince had found. 

Then his mother said to him, “My son, it is certain 
that the slipper you found belongs to none other than 
the great Mountain Rajah’s daughter ; therefore take it 
to his palace, and when he offers you the promised 
reward, say that you wish for neither silver nor gold, 
but ask him to give you his daughter in marriage. 
Thus you may gain her for your wife.” 

The Prince did as his mother advised ; and when, 
after a long, long journey, he reached the court of 
Sodewa Bai’s father, he presented the slipper to him, 
saying, “ I have found your daughter’s slipper, and for 
restoring it I claim a great reward.” “ What will you 
have ?” said the Rajah. “ Shall I pay you in horses ? or 
in silver? or in gold?” “ No,” answered the Prince, “ I 
will have none of these things. I am the son of a 
Rajah who lives in the plains, and I found this slipper 


So dew a Bai. 


283 


in the jungle where I was hunting, and have traveled 
for many weary days to bring it you ; but the only pay 
ment I care for is the hand of your beautiful daughter ; 
if it pleases you, let me become your son-in-law.” The 
Rajah replied, u This only I cannot promise you ; for 
I have vowed I will not oblige my daughter to marry 
against her will. This matter depends upon her alone. 
If she is willing to be your wife, I also am willing ; 
but it rests with her free choice.” Now it happened that 
Sodewa Bai had from her window seen the Prince 
coming up to the palace gate, and when she heard his 
errand, she said to her father, “ I saw that Prince, and 
I am willing to marry him.” So they were married 
with great pomp and splendor. When all the other 
Rajah’s, Sodewa Bai’s suitors, heard of this, they were, 
however much astonished as well as vexed, and said, 
u What can have made Sodewa Bai take a fancy to that 
young Prince? He is not so wonderfully handsome, 
and he is very poor. This is a most foolish marriage.” 
But they all came to it, and were entertained at the 
palace, where the wedding festivities lasted many days. 
After Sodewa Bai and her husband had lived there 
for some little time, he one day said to his father-in-law, 
“ I have a great desire to see my own people again and 
to return to my own country. Let me take my wife 
home with me.” 

The Rajah said, “Very well. I am willing that 
you should go. Take care of your wife ; guard her as 
the apple of your eye ; and be sure you never permit 
the golden necklace to be taken from her neck and 
given to any one else, for in that case she would die.” 
The Prince promised, and he returned with Sodewa 
Bai to his father’s kingdom. At their departure the 


284 


Old Deccan Days. 


Rajah of the Mountain gave them many elephants, 
horses, camels and attendants, besides jewels innume- 
rable and much money, and many rich hangings, 
robes and carpets. The old Rajah and Ranee of the 
Plain were delighted to welcome home their son and 
his beautiful bride ; and there they might all have lived 
their lives long in uninterrupted peace and happiness, 
had it not been for one unfortunate circumstance. 
Rowjee (for that was the Prince’s name) had another 
wife, to whom he had been married when a child, long 
before he had found Sodewa Bai’s golden slipper ; she 
therefore was the first Ranee, though Sodewa Bai was 
the one he loved the best (for the first Ranee was of a 
sullen, morose and jealous disposition.) His father 
also, and his mother, preferred Sodewa Bai to their 
other daughter-in-law. The first Ranee could not bear 
to think of any one being Ranee beside herself ; and 
more especially of another not only in the same posi- 
tion, but better loved by all around than she ; and 
therefore in her wicked heart she hated Sodewa Bai 
and longed for her destruction, though outwardly she 
pretended to be very fond of her. The old Rajah and 
Ranee, knowing of the first Ranee’s jealous and en- 
vious disposition, never liked Sodewa Bai to be much 
with her ; but as they had only a vague fear, and no 
certain ground for alarm, they could do no more than 
watch both carefully ; and Sodewa Bai, who was 
guileless and unsuspicious, would remonstrate with 
them when they warned her not to be so intimate with 
Rowjee Rajah’s other wife, saying, “ I have no fear. 
I think she loves me as I love her. Why should we 
disagree? Are we not sisters?” One day, Rowjee 
Rajah was obliged to go on a journey to a distant part 


Sodewa Bai. 


285 


of his father’s kingdom, and, being unable to take 
Sodewa Bai with him, he left her in his parents’ charge, 
promising to return soon, and begging them to watch 
over her, and to go every morning and see that she was 
well ; which they agreed to do. 

A little while after their husband had gone, the first 
Ranee went to Sodewa Bai’s room and said to her, 
“It is lonely for us both, now Rowjee is away ; but 
you must come often to see me, and I will come often 
to see you and talk to you, and so we will amuse our- 
selves as well as we can.” To this Sodewa Bai agreed, 
and to amuse the first Ranee she took out all her jewels 
and pretty things to show her. As they were looking 
over them, the first Ranee said, “ I notice you always 
wear that row of golden beads round your neck. Why 
do you? Have you any reason for always wearing the 
same ones?” “Oh, yes,” answered Sodewa Bai, 
thoughtlessly. “ I was born with these beads round 
my neck, and the wise men told my father and mother 
that they contain my soul, and that if any one else wore 
them I should die. Therefore I always wear them. I 
have never once taken them oft'.” When the first 
Ranee heard this news she was very much pleased ; 
yet she feared to steal the beads herself, both because 
she was afraid she might be found out, and because she 
did not like with her own hands to commit the crime. 
So, returning to her house, she called her most con- 
fidential servant, a negress, whom she knew to be 
trustworthy, and said to her, “ Go this evening to 
Sodewa Bai’s room when she is asleep, and take from 
her neck the string of golden beads, and fasten them 
round your own neck, and return to me. Those beads 
contain her soul, and as soon as you put them on she 


286 


Old Deccan Days . 


will cease to live.” The negress agreed to do as she 
was told ; for she had long known that her mistress 
hated Sodewa Bai and desired nothing so much as her 
death. So that night, going softly into the sleeping 
Ranee’s room, she stole the golden necklace, and fast- 
ening it round her own neck, crept away without any 
one knowing what was done ; and when the negress 
put on the necklace, Sodewa Bai’s spirit fled. 

Next morning the old Rajah and Ranee went as 
usual to see their daughter-in-law, and knocked at the 
door of her room. No one answered. They knocked 
again and again ; still no reply. They then went in, 
and found her lying there, cold as marble and quite 
dead, though she seemed very well when they had seen 
her before. They asked her attendants, who slept just 
outside her door, whether she had been ill that night, 
or if any one had gone into her room ? But they de- 
clared they had heard no sound, and were sure no one 
had been near the place. In vain the Rajah and 
Ranee sent for the most learned doctors in the king:- 
dom, to see if there was still any spark of life remain- 
ing ; all said that the young Ranee was dead, beyond 
reach of hope or help. 

Then the Rajah and Ranee were very much grieved, 
and mourned bitterly ; and because they desired that, 
if possible, Rowjee Rajah should see his wife once 
again, instead of burying her underground, they placed 
her beneath a canopy in a beautiful tomb near a little 
tank, and would go daily to visit the place and look at 
her. Then did a wonder take place, such as had never 
been known throughout the land before ! Sodewa 
Bai’s body did not decay nor the color of her face 
change ; and a month afterward, when her husband 


Sodewa Bai. 


287 

returned home, she looked as fair and lovely as on the 
night on which she died. There was a fresh color in 
her cheeks and on her lips ; she seemed to oe only 
asleep. When poor Rowjee Rajah heard of her death 
he was so broken-hearted they thought he also would 
die. He cursed the evil fate that had obliged him to 
go away and deprive him of hearing her last words, 01 
bidding her farewell, if he could not save her life ; and 
from morning to evening he would go to her tomb, 
and rend the air with his passionate lamentations, and 
looking through the grating to where she lay calm and 
still under the canopy, say, before he went away, u I 
will take one last look at that fair face. To-morrow 
Death may have set his seal upon it. Oh, loveliness, 
too bright for earth ! Oh, lost, lost wife !” 

The Rajah and Ranee feared that he would die or go 
mad, and they tried to prevent his going to the tomb ; 
but all was of no avail ; it seemed to be the only thing 
he cared for in life. 

Now the negress who had stolen Sodewa Bai’s neck- 
lace used to wear it all day long, but late each night, 
on going to bed, she would take it off and put it by till 
next morning, and whenever she took it off Sodewa 
Bai’s spirit returned to her again, and she lived till day 
dawned and the negress put on the necklace, when she 
again died. But as the tomb was' far from any houses, 
and the old Rajah and Ranee and Rowjee Rajah only 
went there by day, nobody found this out. When 
Sodewa Bai first came to life in this way, she felt very 
much frightened to find herself there all alone in the 
dark, and thought she was in prison ; but afterward 
she got more accustomed to it, and determined when 
morning came to look about the place and find her way 


288 


Old Deccan Days . 


back to the palace, and recover the necklace she found 
she had lost (for it would have been dangerous to go at 
night through the jungles that surrounded the tomb, 
where she could hear the wild beasts roaring all night 
long) ; but morning never came, for whenever the 
negress awoke and put on the golden beads Sodewa 
Bai died. However, each night, when the Ranee came 
to life, she would walk to the little tank by the tomb 
and drink some of the cool water, and return ; but food 
she had none. Now, no pearls or precious stones fell 
from her lips, because she had no one to talk to ; but 
each time she walked down to the tank she scattered 
jewels on either side of her path ; and one day, when 
Rowjee Rajah went to the tomb, he noticed all these 
jewels, and thinking it very strange (though he never 
dreamed that his wife could come to life), determined 
to watch and see whence they came. But although he 
watched and waited long, he could not find out the 
cause, because all day long Sodewa Bai lay still and 
dead, and only came to life at night. It was just at this 
time, two whole months after she had been buried, and 
the night after the very day that Rowjee Rajah had 
spent in watching by the tomb, that Sodewa Bai had a 
little son ; but directly after he was born day dawned, 
and the mother died. The little lonely baby began 
to cry, but no one was there to hear him ; and, as it 
chanced, the Rajah did not go the tomb that day, for 
he thought, “ All yesterday I watched by the tomb and 
saw nothing ; instead, therefore, of going to-day, I will 
wait till the evening, and then see again if I cannot find 
out how the jewels came there.” 

So at night he went to the place. When he got there 
he heard a faint cry from inside the tomb, but what it 


So dew a Bai. 


289 


was he knew not ; perhaps it might be a Peri or an 
evil spirit. As he was wondering the door opened and 
Sodewa Bai crossed the courtyard to the tank with a 
child in her arms, and as she walked showers of jewels 
fell on both sides of her path. Rowjee Rajah thought 
he must be in a dream ; but when he saw the Ranee 
drink some water from the tank and return toward the 
tomb, he sprang up and hurried after her. Sodewa 
Bai, hearing footsteps follow her, was frightened, and 
running into the tomb, fastened the door. Then the 
Rajah knocked at it, saying, u Let me in ; let me in.” 
She answered, “ Who are you ? Are you a Rakshas or 
a spirit?” (For she thought, “Perhaps this is some 
cruel creature who will kill me and the child.”) “ No, 
no,” cried the Rajah, “ I am no Rakshas, but your 
husband. Let me in, Sodewa Bai, if you are indeed 
alive.” No sooner did he name her name than Sodewa 
Bai knew his voice, and unbolted the door and let him 
in. Then, when he saw her sitting on the tomb with 
the baby on her lap, he fell down on his knees before 
her, saying, “ Tell me, little wife, that this is not a 
dream.” u No,” she answered, “ I am indeed alive, 
and this our child was born last night ; but every day I 
die, for while you were away some one stole my golden 
necklace.” 

Then for the first time Rowjee Rajah noticed that 
the beads were no longer round her neck. So he bade 
her fear nothing, for that he would assuredly recover 
them and return ; and going back to the palace, which 
he reached in the early morning, he summoned before 
him the whole household. 

Then, upon the neck of the negress, servant to the 
first Ranee, he saw Sodewa Bai’s missing necklace, and 
25 N 


290 


Old Deccan Days. 


seizing it, ordered the guards to take the woman to 
prison. The negress, frightened, confessed all she had 
done by order of the first Ranee, and how, at her com- 
mand, she had stolen the necklace. And when the 
Rajah learnt this he ordered that the first Ranee also 
should be imprisoned for life, and he and his father 
and mother all went together to the tomb, and placing 
the lost beads round Sodewa Bai’s neck, brought her 
and the child back in triumph with them to the palace. 
Then, at news of how the young Ranee had been re- 
stored to life, there was great joy throughout all that 
country, and many days were spent in rejoicings in 
honor of that happy event ; and for the rest of their 
lives the old Rajah and Ranee, and Rowjee Rajah and 
Sodewa Bai, and all the family, lived in health and 
happiness. 



XXII. 



CHANDRA'S VENGEANCE. 

T HERE was once a Sowkar’s* wife who had no 
children ; one day she went crying to her husband 
and saying, “What an unhappy woman I am to have 
no children ! If I had any children to amuse me I 
should be quite happy.” He answered, “Why should 
you be miserable on that account ; though you have no 
children, your sister has eight or nine ; why not adopt 
one of hers?” The Sowkar’s wife agreed, and, adopt- 
ing one of her sister’s little boys, who was only six 
months old, brought him up as her own son. Some 
time afterward, when the child was one day returning 
from school, he and one of his schoolfellows quarreled 
and began to fight, and the other boy (being much the 
older and strongei of the two) gave him a great blow 
on the head and knocked him down, and hurt him very 
much. The boy ran crying home, and the Sowkar’s 
wife bathed his head and bandaged it up, but she did 
not send and punish the boy who hurt him, for she 
thought, “ One can’t keep children shut up always in 
the house, and they will be fighting together sometimes 
and hurting themselves.” Then the child grumbled to 
himself, saying, “ This is only my aunt ; that is why 
* Merchant’s. 


291 



292 


Old Deccan Days . 


she did not punish the other boy. If she had been my 
mother, she would certainly have given him a great 
knock on his head to punish him for knocking mine, 
but because she is only my aunt, I suppose she doesn’t 
care.” The Sowkar’s wife overheard him, and felt verj 
much grieved, saying, “This little child, whom I have 
watched over from his babyhood, does not love me as 
if I were his mother. It is of no use ; he is not my 
own, and he will never care for me as such.” So she 
took him home to his own mother, saying, “ Sister, I 
have brought you back your child.” “How is this?” 
asked her sister. “ You adopted him as yours for all 
his life. Why do you now bring him back?” The 
Sowkar’s wife did not tell her sister what she had heard 
the boy say, but she answered, “Very well ; let him be 
yours and mine : he shall live a while with you, and 
then come and visit me ; we will both take care of 
him.” And returning to her husband, she told him 
what she had done, saying “All my pains are useless ; 
you know how kind I have been to my sister’s boy, 
yet, after all I have done for him, at the end of seven 
years he does not love me as well as he does his mother, 
whom he had scarcely seen. Now, therefore, I will 
never rest until I have seen Mahdeo* and asked him to 
grant that I may have a child of my own.”f 

“ What a foolish woman you are !” answered her 
husband; “why not be content with your lot? How 
do you think you will find Mahdeo ? Do you know 
the road to heaven?” “Nay,” she replied, “but I 
will seek for it until I find it out, and if I never find it, 
it cannot be helped, but I will return home" no more 
unless my prayer is answered.” So she left the house, 
* The Creator. f See Notes at the end. 


Chandra's Vengeazzce. 


2 93 


and wandered into the jungle, and after she had traveled 
through it for many, many days, and left her own 
land very far behind, she came to the borders of an- 
other country, even the Madura Tinivelly* country, 
where a great river rolled down toward the sea. On 
the river-bank sat two women — a Ranee named Cop- 
linghee Ranee and a Nautch woman. 

Now, neither the Ranee, the Nautch woman nor the 
Sowkar’s wife had ever seen each other before they met 
at the river-side. Then, as she sat down to rest and 
drink some of the water, the Ranee turned to the Sow- 
kar’s wife and said to her, “ Who are you, and where 
are you going?” She answered, “ I am a Sowkar’s wife 
from a far country, and because I was very unhappy at 
having no children, I am going to find Mahdeo and ask 
him to grant that I may have a child of my own.” 

Then, in her turn, she said to the Ranee, “ And 
pray who are you, and w T here are you going?” The 
Ranee answered, “ I am Coplinghee Ranee, queen of 
all this country, but neither money nor riches can give 
me joy, for I have no children ; I therefore am going to 
seek Mahdeo and ask him to grant that I may have a 
child.” Then Coplinghee Ranee asked the Nautch 
woman the same question, saying, “ And who may 
you be, and where are you going?” The Nautch 
woman answered, u I am a dancing woman and I also 
have no children, and am going to seek Mahdeo and 
pray to him for a child.” At hearing this, the Sowkar’s 
wife said, “ Since we are all journeying on the same 
errand, why should we not go together?” To this 
Coplinghee Ranee and the Dancing woman agreed, so 

* Two provinces of the Madras Presidency, on the mainland 
opposite Ceylon. They are famous in Hindoo mythology. 

25 * 


294 OZfl? Deccan Days. 

they all three continued their journey together through 
the jungle. 

On, on, on they went, every day further and further ; 
they never stayed to rest nor saw another human being. 
Their feet ached dreadfully and their clothes wore out, 
and they had nothing to live on but the jungle plants, 
wild berries and seeds. So weary and worn did they 
become that they looked like three poor old beggar 
women. Never had they by night-time sleep nor by 
day-time rest; and so, hour after hour, month after 
month, year after year, they traveled on. 

At last one day they came to where, in the midst of 
the jungle, there rolled a great river of fire. It was 
the biggest river they had ever seen, and made of flames 
instead of water. There was no one on this side and 
no one on that — no way of getting across but by walk- 
ing through the fire. 

When Coplinghee Ranee and the Nautch woman 
saw this, they said, “Alas! here is the end of all our 
pains and trouble. All hope is over, for we can go no 
farther.” But the Sowkar’s wife answered, “ Shall we 
be deterred by this after having come so far? Nay, 
rather seek a way across the fire.” And so saying, she 
stepped into the fire waves ; the others, however, were 
afraid, and would not go. When the Sowkar’s wife had 
half crossed the river of fire, she turned, and waving her 
hands toward them, said, “ Come on, come on, do not be 
afraid. The fire does not burn me. I go to find Mah- 
deo ; perhaps he is on the other side.”* But they still 
refused, saying, “We cannot come, but we will wait 
here until your return ; and if you find Mahdeo, pra} 
for us also, that we may have children.” 

* See Notes at the end. 


Chandra's Vengeance. 295 

So the Sowkar’s wife went on her way, and the fire- 
waves lapped round her feet as if they had been water, 
but they did not hurt her. 

When she reached the other side of the river she came 
upon a great wilderness, full of wild elephants, and 
bison, and lions, and tigers, and bears, that roared and 
growled on every side. But she did not turn back for 
fear of them, for she said to herself, u I can but die 
once, and it is better that they should kill me than that 
I should return without finding Mahdeo.” And all the 
wild beasts allowed her to pass through the midst of 
them and did her no harm. 

Now it came to pass that Mahdeo looked down from 
heaven and saw her, and when he saw her he pitied her 
greatly, for she had been twelve years wandering upon 
the face of the earth to find him. Then he caused a 
beautiful mango tree, beside a fair well, to spring up in 
the desert to give her rest and refreshment, and he him- 
self, in the disguise of a Gosain Fakeer, came and stood 
by the tree. But the Sowkar’s wife would not stay to 
gather the fruit or drink the water ; she did not so much 
as notice the Fakeer, but walked straight on in her 
weary search for Mahdeo. Then he called after her, 
“ Bai, Bai, where are you going? Come here.” She 
answered, scarcely looking at him, u It matters not to 
you, Fakeer, where I am going. You tell your prayer- 
beads and leave me alone.” “ Come here,” he cried ; 
“ come here.” But she would not, so Mahdeo went 
and stood in front of her, no longer disguised as a 
Fakeer, but shining brightly, the Lord of Kylas* in all 
his beauty, and at the sight of him the poor Sowkar’s 
wife fell down on the ground and kissed his feet, and 
* The Hindoo heaven. 


Old Deccan Days. 


296 

he said to her, “ Tell me, Bai, where are you going?” 
She answered, “ Sir, I seek Mahdeo, to -pray him to 
grant that I may have a child, but for twelve years I 
have looked for him in vain.” He said, “ Seek no 
further, for I am Mahdeo ; take this mango,” and he 
gathered one off the tree that grew by the well, “ and 
eat it, and it shall come to pass that when you return 
home you shall have a child.” Then she said, “ Sir, 
three women came seeking you, but two stayed by the 
river of fire, for they were afraid ; may not they also 
have children ? ” 

“If you will,” he answered, “you may give them 
some of your mango, and then they also will each have 
a child.”" 

So saying, he faded from her sight, and the Sowkar’s 
wife returned glad and jojfful, through the wilderness and 
the river of fire, to where the Ranee and the Dancing 
woman were waiting for her on the other side. When 
they saw her, they said, “Well, Sowkar’s wife, what 
news?” She answered, “I have found Mahdeo, and 
he has given me this mango, of which if we eat we 
shall each have a child.” And she took the mango, 
and squeezing it gave the juice to the Ranee, and the 
skin she gave to the Nautch woman, and the pulp and 
the stone she ate herself. 

Then these three women returned to their own homes ; 
Coplinghee Ranee and the Dancing woman to the Ma- 
dura Tinivelly country, and the Sowkar’s wife to very, 
very far beyond that, even the land where her husband 
lived, and whence she had first started on her journey. 

But on their return all their friends only laughed at 
them, and the Sowkar said to his wife, “ I cannot see 
much good in your mad twelve-years’ journey ; you only 


Chandra? s Vengeance . 297 

come back looking like a beggar, and all the world 
laughs at you.” 

“ I don’t care,” she answered ; “ I have seen Mahdeo 
and eaten of the mango, and I shall have a child.” 

And within a little while it came to pass that there 
was born to the Sowkar and his wife a little son, and 
on the very same day Coplinghee Ranee had a daughtei 
and the Nautch woman had a daughter. 

Then were they all very happy, and sent everywhere 
to tell their friends the good news ; and each gave, 
according to her power, a great feast to the poor as a 
thank-offering to Mahdeo, who had been merciful to 
them. And the Sowkar’s wife called her son “ Koila,”* 
in memory of the mango stone ; and the Nautch woman 
called her daughter u Moulee ;”f and the little Princess 
was named Chandra Bai,{ for she was as fair and beau- 
tiful as the white moon. 

Chandra Ranee was very beautiful, the most beautiful 
child in all that country, so pretty and delicately made 
that everybody, when they saw her, loved her. She 
was born, moreover, with, on her ankles, two of the 
most costly anklets that ever were seen. They were 
made of gold and very precious stones, dazzling to look 
at, like the sun. No one had ever seen any like them 
before. Every day, as the baby grew, these bangles 
grew, and round them were little bells, which tinkled 
when any one came near. Chandra’s parents were very 
happy and proud, and sent for all the wise men in the 
kingdom to tell her fortune. But the most learned 
Brahmin of them all, when he saw her, said, “ This 
child must be sent out of the country at once, for if she 

* He of the mango stone. t From the sweet mango pulp. 

% The Moon Lady. 


2tjS 0/d Deccan Days. 

stays ir it she will destroy all the land with fire, and 
burn it utterly. ,, 

The Rajah, at hearing these words, was very angry, 
and said to the Brahmin, “ I will cut off your head, for 
you tell lies and not the truth.” The Brahmin answered, 

“ Cut off my head if you will, but it is the truth I speak, # 
and no lie. If you do not believe me, let a little wool 
be fetched, and put it upon the child, that you may know 
my words are true.” 

So they fetched some wool and laid it upon the baby, 
and no sooner had they done so than it all blazed up 
and burnt till not a bit was left, and it scorched the 
hands of the attendants. 

Then the Brahmin said, “ As this fire has burnt the 
wool, so will this Princess one day, if she comes here, 
burn this whole land.” And they were all very much 
frightened, and the Rajah said to the Ranee, “ This 
being so, the child must be sent out of the country 
instantly.” The poor Ranee thereat was very sad, and 
she did all in her power to save her little baby, but the 
Rajah would not hear of it, and commanded that the 
Princess should be placed in a large box, and taken to 
the borders of his land, where a great river rolled down 
to the sea, and there thrown into the stream, that it 
might carry her far, far away, each minute farther from 
her native land.* Then the Ranee caused a beautiful 
golden box to be made, and put her little baby in it with 
many tears (since all her efforts to save it were of no 
avail), and it was taken away and thrown into the river. 

The box floated on, and on, and on, until at last it 
reached the country where the Sowkar and the Sow- 
kar’s wife lived. Now it chanced that, just as the box 
* See Notes at the end. 


Chandra' s Vengeance . 299 

was floating by, the Sowkar, who had gone down to the 
river to wash his face, caught sight of it, and seeing a 
Fisherman not far oft' prepared to throw his net into the 
water, he cried, “ Run, Fisherman, run, run ; do not 
stop to fish, but cast your net over that glittering box and 
bring it here to me.” 

“ I will not, unless you promise me that the box 
shall be mine,” said the Fisherman. “ Very well,” 
answered the Sowkar, w the box shall be yours, and 
whatever it contains shall belong to me.” 

So the Fisherman cast his net in that part of the 
river and dragged the box ashore. 

1 don’t know which was most astonished — the Mer- 
chant or the Fisherman — when they saw what a prize 
they had found. For the box was composed entirely 
of gold and precious stones, and within it lay the most 
lovely little child that ever w^as seen. 

She seemed a little Princess, for her dress was all 
made of cloth of gold, and on ' her feet were two 
anklets that shone like the sun. 

When the Sowkar opened the box, she smiled ; and 
stretched out her little arms toward him. Then he 
was pleased, and said, u Fisherman, the box is yours, 
but this child must belong to me.” The Fisherman was 
content that it should be so, for he had many children 
of his own at home, and wanted no more, but was 
glad to have the golden box ; while the Sowkar, who 
had only his one little son and was rich, did not care 
for the box, but was well pleased to have the baby. 

He took her home to his wife, and said, “ See, wife, 
here is a pretty little daughter-in-law for us. Here is 
a wife for your little son.” And when the Sowkar’s 
wife saw the child looking so beautiful and smiling so 


3 °° 


Old Deccan Days. 


sweetly, her heart was glad and she loved her, and 
from that day took the greatest care of her, just as if 
the baby girl had been her own daughter. And when 
Chandra Ranee was a year old they married her to 
their son, Koila. 

Years wore on, and the Sowkar and his wife were in 
a good old age gathered to their fathers. Meantime, 
Koila and Chandra had grown up the handsomest 
couple in all the country : Koila tall and straight, with 
a face like a young lion, and Chandra as lithe and 
graceful as a palm tree, with a face calm and beautiful 
like the silver moonlight. 

Meantime Moulee, the Nautch woman’s daughter 
(and third of the mango children), had likewise grown 
up in the Madura Tinivelly country, and was also very 
fair — fairer than any one in all the land around. More- 
over, she danced and sang more beautifully than any 
of the other Nautch girls. Her voice was clear as the 
voice of a quail, and it rang through the air with 
such power that the sound could be heard a twelve- 
days’ journey oft'. The Nautch people used to travel 
about from place to place, staying one day in one town 
and the next in another, and so it happened that in 
their wanderings they reached the borders of the land 
where Koila and Chandra lived. 

One morning Koila heard the sound of singing in the 
distance, and it pleased him so well that he determined 
to try and discover who it was that possessed such an 
exquisite voice. For twelve days he journeyed on 
through the jungle, each day hearing the singing re- 
peated louder and louder, yet still without reaching the 
place whence it came. At last, on the twelfth day, he 
got close to the Nautch people’s encampment, not fai 


Chandi'cC s Vengeatice. 


3 QI 


from a large town, and there saw the singer (who was 
none other than Moulee), singing and dancing in the 
midst of a great crowd of people who had collected 
around her. In her hand she held a garland of flowers, 
which she waved over her head as she danced. 

Koila was so charmed with the sound of her voice that 
he felt spell-bound, and stood where he was, far off on 
the outskirts of the jungle, listening, without going any 
nearer. 

When the entertainment was over, all the people 
crowded round Moulee, saying, “ Why should you, 
who have such a beautiful voice, go away and leave 
our city ? Marry one of us, and then you will stay here 
always.” Then, the number of her suitors being so 
great that she did not know whom to choose, she said, 
“ Very well ; he on whose neck this garland falls shall 
be my husband.” And waving the flowers she held 
two or three times round her head, she threw them 
from her with her utmost force. 

The impetus given to the garland was so great that 
it swung through the air beyond the crowd and fell 
upon the neck of Koila as he stood by the borders of 
the jungle. And the people ran to see who was the 
fortunate possessor, and when they saw Koila they 
were astonished, for he looked more beautiful than 
any of the sons of men : it was as if an immortal had 
suddenly come among them. And the Nautch people 
dragged him back to their camp, crying, u You have 
won the garland; you must be Moulee’s husband.” 
He answered, “ I only came here to look on ; I cannot 
stay . This is not my country ; I have a wife of my 
own at home.” “ That is nothing to us,” they said ; 
“ it is your destiny to marry Moulee — Moulee the 


3°2 


Old Deccan Days. 


beautiful one — Moulee, whose voice you heard and who 
dances so well. You must marry her, for the garland 
fell on you.” 

Now so it was, that though Koila was very kind to 
his wife, he did not love her as well as she loved him 
(perhaps it was that, having been accustomed to her 
from a child, Chandra’s goodness and beauty struck 
him less than it did other people) ; and instead of think- 
ing how unhappy she would be if he did not return, 
and going back at once, he stopped and hesitated and 
debated what to do. And the Nautch people gave him 
a drink that was a very powerful spell, insomuch that 
he soon totally forgot about his own home, and was 
married to Moulee, the Nautch girl, and lived among 
the Nautch people for many months. At last, one day, 
Moulee’s mother (the very Nautch woman who had 
gone with Coplinghee Ranee and the Sowkar’s wife to 
find Mahdeo) said to Koila, “ Son-in-law, you are a 
lazy fellow ; you have been here now for a long time, 
but you do nothing for your support ; it is we who 
have to pay for your food, we who have to provide your 
clothes. Go now and fetch us some money, or I will 
turn you out of the house, and you shall never see 
your wife Moulee again.” Koila had no money to give 
his mother-in-law : then, for the first time he bethought 
him of his own country and of Chandra, and he said 
“ My first wife, who lives in my own country, has on 
her feet two bangles of very great value ; let me return 
home and fetch one of them to sell, which will more 
than pay whatever I owe you.” The Nautch people 
consented. So Koila returned to his own home, and 
told Chandra what he wanted the money for, and asked 
her to let him have one of her bangles ; but. she refused, 


Chandra's Vengeance, 303 

sa yi n g> “ You have been away a long, long time, and 
left me all alone, and chosen for your second wife one 
of the Nautch people, and become one of them ; 
and now you want to take one of my bangles — 
the bangles that I had when a little child, that have 
grown with my growth, and never been taken off— and 
to give it to your other wife. This shall not be ; go 
back, if you will, to your new friends, but I will not 
give you my bangle.” 

He answered, u They gave me an enchanted drink 
which made me forget you for a time, but I am weary 
of them all ; let me but go and pay my mother-in-law 
the money I owe her for food and clothes, and I will 
return and live in my own land, for you are my first 
wife.” 

“ Very well,” she said, u you may take the bangle and 
sell it, and give the money to your second wife’s mother, 
but take me also with you when you go ; do not leave 
me here all alone again.” Koila agreed, and they both 
set off together toward the Madura Tinivelly country. 

As they journeyed, Krishnaswami,* who was playing 
at cards with his three wives, saw them, and when he 
saw them he laughed. Then his wives said to him, 
“ Why do you laugh ? You have not laughed for such 
a long time : what amuses you so much now ? ” He 
answered, “ I am laughing to see Koila and «his wife 
Chandra Ranee journeying toward the Madura Tini- 
velly country. He is going to sell his wife’s bangle, 
and he will only be killed, and then she in anger will 
burn up all the country. O foolish people ! ” The 
goddesses answered, “ This is a very dreadful thing ; let 
us go in disguise and warn him not to enter the country.” 

* The Hindoo god Krishna, an incarnation of Vishnu. 


3°4 


Old Deccan Days. 


u It would be useless,” said Krishnaswami ; “ if you do, 
he will only laugh at you and get angry with you.” 
But the goddesses determined to do their best to avert 
the threatened calamity. So they disguised themselves 
as old fortune-tellers, and went out with little lamps 
and their sacred books to meet Koila as he came along 
the road, followed by his wife. Then they said to him, 
u Come not into the Madura Tinivelly country, for if 
you come you will be killed, and your wife in her fury 
will burn all the land with fire.” At first, Koila would 
not listen to them ; then he bade them go away ; and 
lastly, when they continued warning him, got angry and 
beat them out of his path, saying, u Do you think I am 
to be frightened out of the country by a parcel of old 
crones like you ? ” 

Then Krishnaswami’s three wives returned to him, 
much enraged at the treatment they had received ; but 
he only said to them, “ Did not I tell you not to go, 
warning you that it would be useless?” 

On getting near the Rajah’s capital, Koila and Chan- 
dra came to the house of an old milk-seller, who was 
very kind to them and gave them food and shelter for 
the night. Next morning Koila said to his wife, “ You 
had better stay here ; this good old woman will take 
care of you while I go into the town to sell your bangle.” 
Chandra agreed, and remained at the old woman’s house 
while her husband went into the town. Of course he 
did not know that the Rajah and his wife (the Coplin- 
ghee Ranee) were Chandra’s father and mother, any 
more than they, or Chandra herself, knew it, or than 
the three mango children knew the story of their mothers’ 
journey in search of Mahdeo. 

Now a short time before Koila and Chandra reached 


Chandra's Vengeance. 305 

the Madura Tinivelly country, Coplinghee Ranee had 
sent a very handsome pair of bangles to a Jeweler in 
the town to be cleaned. It chanced that in a high tree 
close to the Jeweler’s house two eagles had built their 
nest, and the young eagles, who were very noisy birds, 
used to scream all day long and greatly disturb the 
Jeweler’s family. So one day, when the old birds were 
away, the Jeweler’s son climbed up the tree and pulled 
down the nest, and put the young eagles to death. 
When the old birds returned home and saw what was 
done, it grieved them very much, and they said, “ These 
cruel people have killed our children ; let us punish 
them.” And seeing in the porch one of Coplinghee 
Ranee’s beautiful bangles, which the Jeweler had just 
been cleaning, they swooped down and flew away with, 
it.* 

The Jeweler did not know what to do : he said to his 
wife, “To buy such a bangle as that would cost more 
than all our fortune, and to make one like it would take 
many, many years ; I dare not say I have lost it, or they 
would think I had stolen it and put me to death. The 
only thing I can do is to delay returning the other as 
long as possible, and try somehow to get one like it.” 
So next day, when the Ranee sent to inquire if her 
bangles were ready, he answered, “ They are not ready 
yet ; they will be ready to-morrow.” And the next day 
and the next he said the same thing. At last the Ranee’s 
messengers got very angry at the continued delays ; then, 
seeing he could no longer make excuses, the Jeweler sent 
the one bangle by them to the palace, beautifully cleaned, 
with a message that the other also would shortly be 
ready ; but all this time he was hunting for a bangle 
* See Notes at the end. 


Old Deccan Days. 


3°6 

costly enough to take the Ranee as a substitute for the 
one the eagles had carried away. Such a bangle, how- 
ever, he could not find. 

When Koila reached the town, he spread out a sheet 
in the corner of a street near the market-place, and, 
placing the bangle upon it, sat down close by, waiting 
for customers. Now he was very, very handsome. 
Although dressed so plainly, he looked like a Prince, 
and the bangle he had to sell flashed in the morning 
light like seven suns. Such a handsome youth and 
such a beautiful bangle the people had never seen 
before ; and many passers-by, with chattees on their 
heads, for watching him, let the chattees tumble down 
and break, they were so much astonished ; and several 
men and women, who were looking out of the windows 
of their houses, leant too far forward and fell into the 
street, so giddy did they become from wonder and 
amazement ! 

But no one could be found to buy the bangle, for they 
all said, u We could not afford to buy such jewels ; this 
bangle is fit only for a Ranee to wear.” At last, when 
the day had nearly gone, who should come by but the 
Jeweler who had been employed to clean Coplinghee 
Ranee’s bangles, and was in search of one to replace 
that which the eagles had stolen. No sooner did he 
see the one belonging to Chandra, which Koila was 
trying to sell, than he said to himself, “ That is the very 
thing I want, if I can only get it.” So he called his 
wife, and said to her, “ Go to that bangle-seller and 
speak kindly to him ; say that the day is nearly gone, 
and invite him to come and lodge at our house for the 
night. For if we can make friends with him and get 
him to trust us, I shall be able to take the bangle from 


Chandra? s Vengeance . 


3°7 


him and say he stole it from me. And as he is a 
stranger here, every one will believe my word rather 
than his. This bangle is exactly the very thing for me 
to take Coplinghee Ranee, for it is very like her own, 
only more beautiful. 

The Jeweler’s wife did as she was told, and then the 
Jeweler himself went up to Koila and said to him, 
“ You are a bangle-seller, and I am a bangle-seller ; 
therefore I look upon you as a brother. Come home, 
I pray you, with us, as my wife begs you to do, and we 
will give you food and shelter for the night, since you 
are a stranger in this country.” So these cunning peo- 
ple coaxed Koila to go home with them to their home, 
and pretended to be very kind to him, and gave him 
supper, and a b£d to rest on for the night ; but next 
morning early the Jeweler raised a hue and cry and 
sent for the police, and bade them take Koila before 
the Rajah instantly, since he had stolen and tried to 
sell one of Coplinghee Ranee’s bangles, which he (the 
Jeweler) had been given to clean. It was in vain that 
Koila protested his innocence, and declared that the 
bangle he had belonged to his wife ; he was a stran- 
ger — nobody would believe him. They dragged him 
to the palace, and the Jeweler accused him to the 
Rajah, saying, “ This man tried to steal the Ranee’s 
bangle (which I had been given to clean) and to sell it. 
If he had done so, you would have thought I had 
stolen it, and killed me ; I demand, therefore, that he 
in punishment shall be put to death.” 

Then they sent for the Ranee to show her the bangle, 
hut as soon as she saw it she recognized it as one of the 
bangles which had belonged to Chandra, and burst into 
tears, crying, “ This is not my bangle. Oh, my lord, 


3°8 


Old Deccan Days. 


no jeweler on earth made this bangle ! See, it is differ- 
ent to mine ; and when any one comes near it, it tin- 
kles and all the little bells begin to ring. Have you 
forgotten it? This was my beauty’s bangle ! My dia- 
mond’s ! My little darling’s ! My lost child’s ! Where 
did it come from ? How did it come here ? How into 
this land, and into this town and bazaar, among these 
wicked people ? For this Jeweler must have kept my 
bangle and brought this one in its place. No human 
goldsmith’s hands made this, for it is none other than 
Chandra’s.” Then she begged the Rajah to inquire 
further about it. 

But they all thought her mad ; and the Jeweler said, 
“It is the Ranee’s fancy, for this is the same bangle 
she gave me to clean.” The other people also agreed 
that both the bangles were almost exactly alike, and 
must be a pair ; and it being certain that Koila had had 
the bangle when he was seized by the police, the Rajah 
ordered him to be instantly executed. But the Ranee 
took Chandra’s bangle and locked it away in a strong 
cupboard, apart from all her other jewels. 

Then they took Koila out into the jungle and would 
have cut off his head, but he said to his guards, “ If I 
must die, let me die by my own hands,” and drawing 
his sword he fell upon it, and as the sword was very 
sharp it cut his body in two — one half fell on one side 
of the sword, and the other half on the other side — 
and they left his body where it fell. 

When the news of what had taken place came to the 
town, many people who had seen Koila selling his ban- 
gle the day before began to murmur, saying, “ There 
must be some injustice here — the Rajah has been over- 
hasty. Most likely the poor man did not steal ihe 


Chandra's Vengeance. 309 

bangle. It is not likely that he would have tried to sell 
it openly before us all in the bazaar if it had been 
stolen property. How cruel of the Rajah to put such 
a handsome, gentle, noble-looking youth to death ! — 
and he was a stranger, too !” And many wept at: 
thought of his hard fate. When the Rajah heard of 
this he was very angry, and sent and commanded that 
the matter should be no further discussed in the town, 
saying, “ If any one speaks another word of what has 
been done, or laments or sheds tears for the dead, he 
shall be instantly hanged.” Then the people all felt 
very frightened, and not a soul dared to speak of Koila, 
though every one thought about him much. 

Early the very morning -that this happened the old 
milk-seller (at whose house, which was a little out of 
the town, Chandra had been sleeping) took her guest 
a bowl full of milk to drink ; but no sooner had Chan- 
dra tasted it than she began to cry, saying, “ Good 
mother, what have you done? my mouth is full of 
blood !” “ No, no, my daughter,” answered the old 

woman ; “ you must have been dreaming some bad 
dream. See, this is pure, fresh, warm milk I have 
brought you ; drink again.” But when Chandra tasted 
it for the second time, she answered, “ Oh no ! oh no 1 
it is not milk that I taste, but blood. All last night I 
had a dreadful dream, and this morning when I woke 
I found that my marriage necklace had snapped in two ; 
and now this milk tastes to me as blood. Let me go ! 
let me go ! for I know my husband is dead.” 

The old woman tried to comfort her, saying, “ Why 
should you fancy he is dead ? he was quite well yester- 
day, when he went to sell your bangle ; and he said he 
would come back to you soon ; in a little while, very 


3 10 


Old Deccan Days. 


likely, he will be here.” But she answered, “ No, no , 
I feel sure that he is dead ! Oh, let me go ! for I must 
find him before I die.” Then the old woman said, 
“You must not go ; you are too beautiful to run about 
through the streets of this strange town alone, and 
your husband would be very angry if he saw you 
doing so ; and who knows but that you might lose 
your way, and get carried off as a slave ; remember, he 
told you to stay here till he returned. Be patient ; re- 
main where you are, and I will go quickly into the 
town and seek your husband. If he is alive, I will 
bring him back to you, and if he is dead I will bring 
you word.” So, taking a chattee full of milk on her 
head, as if to sell, she went to the town to find Koila, 
while every minute seemed an hour to Chandra until 
her return. 

When the old milk-seller reached the town, she went 
up and down all the streets looking for Koila, or ex- 
pecting to hear some one mention the handsome 
stranger who had gone to sell such a wonderful bangle 
the day before. But she could not find him, nor did 
she hear him spoken of, for all were afraid to say a 
word about him on account of the Rajah’s decree. 
Being unable to trace him, the old woman got sus- 
picious, and began to search, more carefully than before, 
down all the streets near the market-place, where she 
thought he was most likely to have gone ; but, lest 
people should wonder at her errand, she called out 
each time as if she had some different thing to sell. 
First, “ Buy some milk — who’ll buy milk — who’ll 
buy?” Then, on going for a second time down the 
same street, “ Buy butter — butter ! very fine butter !” 
and so on. At last one woman, who had been watch 


Chandra's Vengeance . 311 

ing her with some curiosity, said, “ Old woman, what 
nonsense you talk ! you have been half-a-dozen times 
up and down this same street, as if you had half-a- 
dozen different things to sell in that one chattee. Any 
one would think you had as little sense as that pretty 
young bangle-seller yesterday, who spent all the day 
trying to sell a bangle, and got put to death for his 
pains.” 

“Of whom do you speak?” asked the old woman. 
“Oh,” said the other, “I suppose, as you’re a milk- 
seller from the country, you know nothing about it. 
But that’s not to be talked about, for the Rajah has said 
that whoever speaks of him or mourns him shall be 
instantly hanged. Ah ! he was very handsome.” 

“Where is he now?” whispered the old woman. 
“ There,” answered the other ; “ you can see the place 
where that crowd of people has collected. The Rajah’s 
Jeweler accused him of having stolen the bangle ; so 
he was executed, many thought unjustly ; but do not 
say I said it.” And so saying, she pointed toward the 
jungle some way off. The old woman ran to the 
place, but when she there saw two halves of Koila’s 
body lying side by side, stiff and cold, she threw her 
earthen chattee down on the ground and fell on her 
knees, crying bitterly. The noise attracted the atten- 
tion of the Rajah’s guards, some of whom immediately 
seized her, saying, “Old woman, it is against the law 
to lament that dead man or murmur at the Rajah’s de- 
cree ; you deserve to be put to death.” But she 
answered quickly, “ The dead man ! I do not cry for 
the dead man : can you not see that my chattee is 
broken and all the milk spilt? Is it not enough to 
make one weep?” And she began to cry again. 


3 12 


Old Deccan Days. 


“ Hush ! hush !” they answered ; “ don’t cry ; come, 
the chattee wasn’t worth much ; it was only an earthen 
thing. Stop your tears, and maybe we’ll give you a 
chattee of gold.” 

“ I neither care for your golden chattees nor for 
silver,” she said, angrily. “ Go away ; go away ! my 
earthen chattee was worth them all. My grandfather’s 
grandfather and my grandmother’s grandmother used 
this chattee ; and to think that it should now be broken 
and all the milk spilt!” And picking up the broken 
pieces, she went home sobbing, as if the loss of her 
chattee was all her grief. But when she got to her own 
house, she ran into where Chandra was, crying, “Alas ! 
my pretty child ! alas, my daughter ! your fears are 
true !” and as gently as she could she told her what 
had happened. 

No sooner did Chandra hear it than she ran away 
straight to the Rajah’s palade in the midst of the town, 
and rushing into the room where he was, said, “ How 
did you dare to kill my husband ?” 

Now, at the sound of her voice, her bangle, which 
the Ranee had locked up in the cupboard, broke 
through all the intervening doors and rolled to Chan- 
dra’s feet. 

The Rajah was unable to answer her a word. Then 
she fell on her knees and rent her clothes and tore her 
hair ; and when she tore it all the land began to burn 
and all her hair burned too. 

Then the old milk-seller, who had followed her, ran 
and put a lump of butter on her head, thinking to cool 
it ; and two other woman, who were by, fetched water 
to pour upon her hair, but by this time nineteen lines 
of houses were in flames. Then the old woman cried. 


3 I 3 


Chandra's Vengeance. 

“ Oh ! spare the Purwari* lines ; don’t burn them down, 
for I did all I could for you.” So Chandra did not 
burn that part of the town near which the old woman 
and her friends lived. But the fire burnt on and on in 
the other direction ; and it killed the Rajah and the 
Ranee and all the people in the palace, and the wicked 
Jeweler and his wife ; and as he was dying Chandra 
tore out his heart and gave it to the eagles who hovered 
overhead, saying, u Here is vengeance for the death of 
your little ones.” And the Nautch girl, Moulee, and 
her mother, who were watching the fire from far off, 
were .smothered in the flames. f 

Then Chandra went to where Koila’s dead body lay 
and wept over it bitterly ; and as she was weeping, 
there fell down to her from heaven a needle and 
thread ; and she took them, saying, “ Oh, that I could 
by any means restore you !” and, placing the two halves 
of his body side by side, she sewed them together. 

And when she had done this, she cried to Mahdeo, 
saying, “Sire, I have done the best I can; I have 
joined the body ; give it life.” And as she said these 
words Mahdeo had pity on her, and he sent Koila’s 
spirit back and it returned to his body again. Then 
Chandra was glad, and they returned and lived in their 
own land. 

But to this day in the Madura Tinivelly country you 
can trace where all the land was burnt. 

* Or outcasts’; literally, “the extra-muralists’,” i.e., the 
houses of the lowest classes, not permited to live within the 
city walls. 

f See Notes at the end. 

27 


0 



XXIII. 

HOW THE THREE CLEVER MEN OUTWITTED 
THE DEMONS. 

T HERE was once upon a time a very rich man who 
had a very beautiful wife, and this man’s chief 
amusement used to be shooting with a bow and arrow, 
at which he was so clever that every morning he would 
shoot through one of the pearls in his wife’s nose-ring 
without hurting her at all.* One fine day, that was a 
holiday, the Pearl-shooter’s brother-in-law came to take 
his sister to their father and mother’s house to pay her 
own family a little visit ; and when he saw her, he said, 
“ Why do you look so pale and thin and miserable ? is 
your husband unkind to you, or what is the matter?” 
“ No,” she answered ; “ my husband is very kind to me, 
and I have plenty of money and jewels, and as nice a 
house as I could wish ; my only grief is that every 
morning he amuses himself by shooting one of the 
pearls from my nose-ring, and that frightens me ; for I 
think perhaps some day he may miss his aim and the 
arrow run into my face and kill me. So I am in con- 
stant terror of my life ; yet I do not like to ask him not 
to do it, because it gives him so much pleasure ; but if 
he left off of his own accord, I should be very glad.” 
“What does he say to you himself about it?” asked 
* See Notes at the end. 


314 


The Three Clever Men and the Demons. 315 

the brother. “ Every day,” she replied, “ when he has 
shot the pearl, he comes to me quite happy and proud, 
and says, ‘Was there ever a man as clever as I am?’ 
and I answer him, ‘ No, I do not think there ever was 
any as clever as you.’ ” “ Do not say so again,” said 

the brother ; “ but next time he asks you the question, 
answer, ‘ Yes, there are many men in the world more 
clevei than you.’ ” The Pearl-shooter’s wife promised 
to take her brother’s advice. So, next time her husband 
shot the pearl from her nose-ring, and said to her, “ Was 
there ever a man as clever as I am ? ” she answered, 
“ Yes, there are many men in the world more clever 
than you.” 

Then he said, “ If so be that there are, I will not 
rest until I have found them.” And he left her, and 
went a far journey into the jungle in order to find, if 
possible, a cleverer man than himself. On, on, on he 
journeyed a very long way, until at last he came to a 
large river, and on the river-bank sat a traveler eat- 
ing his dinner. The Pearl-shooter sat down beside 
him and the two began conversing together. At last, 
the Pearl-shooter said to his friend, “ What is the reason 
of your journey, and where are you going?” The 
stranger answered, “ I am a Wrestler, and the strongest 
man in all this country ; I can do many wonderful 
things in the way of wrestling and carrying heavy 
weights, and I began to think that in all this world 
there was no one so clever as I ; but I have lately heard 
of a still more wonderful man who lives in a distant 
country, and who is so clever that every morning he 
shoots one of the pearls from his wife’s nose-ring with- 
out hurting her. So I go to find him, and learn if this 
is true.” 


Old Deccan Days. 


3 16 

The Pearl-shooter answered, “ Then you need travel 
no further, for I am that man of whom you heard.” 
“ Why are you traveling about, then, and where are you 
going?” asked the Wrestler. u I,” replied the other, 
“ am also traveling to see if in all the world I can find 
a cleverer man than myself; therefore, as we have both 
the same object in view, let us be as brothers and go 
about together ; perhaps there is still in the world a 
better man than we.” The Wrestler agreed ; so they 
both started on their way together. They had not gone 
very far before they came to a place where three roads 
met, and there sat another man, whom neither of them 
had ever seen before. He accosted the Wrestler and 
the Pearl-shooter and said to them, “ Who are you, 
friends, and where are you going?” u We,” answered 
they, “ are two clever men, who are traveling through 
the world to see if we can find a cleverer man than we ; 
but who may you be, and where are you going ? ” “ I,” 

replied the third man, “ am a Pundit,* a man of mem- 
ory, renowned for my good head, a great thinker ; and 
verily I thought there was not in the world a more 
wonderful man than I ; but having heard of two men 
in distant lands of very great cleverness, the one of 
whom is a Wrestler, and the other a shooter of pearls 
from his wife’s nose-ring, I go to find them and learn 
if the things I heard are true.” “ They are true,” said 
the other ; “ for we, O Pundit, are the very two men 
of whom you speak.” 

At this news the Pundit was overjoyed, and cried, 
“ Then let us be as brothers ; since your homes are far 
distant, return with me to my house, which is close by ; 
there you can rest a while, and each of us put our 
* Wise man. 


The Three Clever Men and the Demons . 317 

various powers to the proof.” This proposal pleased 
the Wrestler and the Pearl-shooter, who accompanied 
the Pundit to his house. 

Now, in the kitchen there was an enormous cauldron 
of iron, so heavy that five-and-twenty men could hardly 
move it ; and in the dead of night the Wrestler, to prove 
his power, got up from the veranda where he was sleep- 
ing, and as quietly as possible lifted this great cauldron 
on his shoulders and carried it down to the river, where 
he waded with it into the deepest part of the water, and 
there buried it. After having accomplished this feat, 
he returned to the Pundit’s house as quietly as he had 
left it, and, rolling himself up in his blanket, fell fast 
asleep. But though he had come never so softly, the 
Pundit’s wife heard him, and waking her husband, she 
said, “ I hear footsteps as of people creeping quietly 
about and not wishing to be heard, and but a little while 
ago I noticed the same thing ; perhaps there are thieves 
in the house ; let us go and see : it is strange they should 
choose such a bright moonlight night.” And they both 
got up quickly and walked round the house. They 
found nothing, however, out of order, nor any signs of 
anything having been touched or disarranged, until they 
came to the kitchen. And, indeed, at first they thought 
all was as they left it there, when, just as they were 
going away, the Pundit’s wife cried out to him, “ Why, 
what has become of the great cauldron? I never 
thought of looking to see if that was safe ; for it did not 
seem possible that it could have been moved.” And 
they both looked inside the house and outside, but the 
cauldron was nowhere to be seen. At last, however, 
they discovered deep footprints in the sand close to the 
kitchen door, as of some one who had been carrying a 


3 1 8 Old Deccan Days . 

very heavy weight, and these they traced down to the 
river-side. 

Then the Pundit said, “ Some one immensely strong 
has evidently done this, for here are the footprints of 
one man only ; and he must have buried the cauldron 
in the water, for, see, there is no continuation of the 
footprints on the other side. I wonder who can have 
done it? Let us go and see that our two guests are 
asleep ; perhaps the Wrestler played us this trick to 
prove his great strength.” And with his wife he went 
into the veranda, where the Pearl-shooter and the 
Wrestler lay rolled up in their blankets, fast asleep. 
First, they looked at the Pearl-shooter ; but on seeing 
him the Pundit shook his head, saying, u No, he cer- 
tainly has not done this thing.” They then looked at 
the Wrestler, and the cunning Pundit licked the skin 
of the sleeping man, and, turning his wife, whispered, 
“ This is assuredly the man who stole the cauldron and 
put it in the river, for he must have been but lately up 
to his neck in fresh water, since there is no taste of salt 
on his skin from his foot even to his shoulders. To- 
morrow I will surprise him by showing him I know 
this.” And so saying, the Pundit crept back into the 
house, followed by his wife. 

Next morning early, as soon as it was light, the 
Pearl-shooter and the Wrestler were accosted by their 
host, who said to them, “ Let us go down to the river 
and have a wash, for I cannot offer you a bath, since 
the great cauldron, in which we generally bathe, has 
been mysteriously carried away this very night.” 
“ Where can it have gone?” said the Wrestler. “ Ah, 
where indeed ?” answered the Pundit ; and he led them 
down to where the cauldron had been put into the river 


The Three Clever Men and the Demons. 319 

by the Wrestler the night before, and wading about in 
the water until he found it, pointed it out to him, say- 
ing, u See, friend, how far this cauldron traveled !” 
The Wrestler was much surprised to find that the Pun- 
dit knew where the cauldron was hidden, and said, 
“Who can have put it there?” “I will tell you,” 
answered the Pundit ; “ why, I think it was you !” 
And then he related how his wife had heard footsteps, 
and, being afraid of thieves, had awakened him the 
night before, and how they had discovered that the 
cauldron was missing, and traced it down to the river- 
side ; and then how he had found out that the Wrestler 
had just before been into the w T ater up to his neck. 
The Wrestler and the Pearl-shooter were both much 
astonished at the Pundit’s wisdom in having found this 
out ; and the Pearl-shooter said to himself, u Both 
these men are certainly more clever than I.” Then 
the three clever men returned to the house, and were 
very happy and joyful, and amused themselves laugh- 
ing and talking all the rest of the day ; and when even- 
ing came., the Pundit said to the Wrestler, “ Let us to 
night forego all meagre fare and have a royal feast ; 
friend Strongman, pray you go and catch the fattest of 
those goats that we see upon the hills yonder, and we 
will cook it for our dinner.” The Wrestler assented, 
and ran on and on until he reached the flock of goats 
browsing upon the hill-side. Now, just at that mo- 
ment a wicked little Demon came by that way, and on 
seeing the Wrestler looking at the goats (to see which 
seemed the finest to take home to dinner), he thought 
to himself, “ If I can make him choose me, and take 
me home with him for his dinner, I shall be able to 
play him and his friends some fine tricks.” So, quick 


3 20 


Old Deccan Days. 


as thought, he changed himself into a very handsome 
goat, and when the Wrestler saw this one goat, so 
much taller and finer and fatter than all the rest, he ran 
and caught hold of him and tucked him under his arm, 
to carry him home for dinner. The goat kicked and 
kicked and jumped about, and tried to butt more 
fiercely than the Wrestler had ever known any mortal 
goat do before, but still he held him tight and brought 
him in triumph to the Pundit’s door. The Pundit 
heard him coming and ran out to meet him ; but when 
he saw the goat, he started back quite frightened, for 
the Wrestler was holding it so tight that its eyes were 
almost starting out of its head, and they were fiery and 
evil-looking and burning like two living coals, and the 
Pundit saw at once that it was a Demon, and no goat, 
that his friend held ; then he thought quickly, “ If I 
appear to be frightened, this cruel Demon will get into 
the house and devour us all ; I must endeavor to intim- 
idate him.” So, in a bold voice, he cried, “ O Wrest- 
ler! Wrestler! foolish friend! what have you done? 
We asked you to fetch a fat goat for our dinner, and 
here you have only brought one wretched little Demon. 
If you could not find goats, while you were about it 
you might as well have brought more Demons, for we 
are hungry people. My children are each accustomed 
to eat one Demon a day, and my wife eats three, and I 
myself eat twelve, and here you have only brought one 
between us all ! What are we to do ?” At hearing 
these reproaches, the Wrestler was so much aston- 
ished that he dropped the Demon-goat, who, for his 
part, was so frightened at the Pundit’s words, that he 
came crawling along quite humbly upon his knees, 
saying, “ Oh, sir, do not eat me, do not eat me, and I 


The Three Clever Afen and the Demons. 321 

will give you anything you like in the world. Only 
let me go, and I will fetch you mountains of treasure, 
rubies and diamonds, and gold and precious stones be- 
yond all count. Do not eat me ; only let me go !” 
44 No, no,” said the Pundit ; “ I know what you’ll do ; 
you’ll just go away and never return : we are very hun- 
gry ; we do not want gold and precious stones, but we 
want a good dinner ; we must certainly eat you.” 
The Demon thought all that the Pundit said must be 
true, he spoke so fearlessly and naturally. So he only 
repeated more earnestly, “ Only let me go ; I promise 
you to return and bring you all the riches that you 
could desire.” 

The Pundit was too wise to seem glad ; but he said 
sternly, “Very well, you may go ; but unless you re- 
turn quickly and bring the treasure you promise, be you 
in the uttermost part of the earth, we will find you 
and eat you, for we are more powerful than you and 
all your fellows.” 

The Demon, who had just experienced how much 
stronger the Wrestler was than ordinary men, and then 
heard from the Pundit’s own lips of his love for eating 
Demons, thought himself exceedingly lucky to have 
escaped their clutches so easily ; and returning to his 
own land, he fetched from the Demons’ storehouse a 
vast amount of precious things, with which he was 
flying away with all speed (in order to pay his debt 
and avoid being afterward hunted and eaten), when 
several of his comrades caught hold of him, and in an- 
gry tones asked where he was carrying away so much 
of their treasure. The Demon answered, u I take it 
to save my life ; for whilst wandering round the world 
X was caught by terrible creatures, more dreadful than 


3 22 


Old Deccan Days. 


the sons of men, and they threaten to eat me unless I 
bring the treasure.” 

“We should like to see these dreadful creatures,” 
answered they, “ for we never before heard of mortals 
who devoured Demons.” To which he replied, “ These 
are not ordinary mortals ; I tell you they are the 
fiercest creatures I ever saw, and would devour our 
Rajah, himself, did they get the chance ; one of them 
said that'he daily ate twelve Demons, that his wife ate 
three, and each of his children one.” At hearing this 
they consented to let him go for the time ; but the 
Demon Rajah commanded him to return with all speed 
next day, that the matter might be further discussed 
in solemn council. 

When, after three days’ absence, the Demon returned 
to the Pundit’s house with the treasure, the Pundit 
angrily said to him, “Why have you been so long 
away? You promised to return as soon as possible.” 
He answered, “ All my fellow-Demons detained me, 
and would hardly let me go, they were so angry at my 
bringing you so much treasure ; and though I told them 
how great and powerful you are, they would not be- 
lieve me, but will, as soon as I return, judge me in 
solemn council for serving you.” “ Where is your 
solemn council held?” asked the Pundit. “ Oh, very 
far, far away,” answered the Demon, “ in the depths 
of the jungle, where our Rajah daily holds his court.” 
“ 1 and my friends should like to see that place, and 
your Rajah and all his court,” said the Pundit ; “ you 
must take us with you when you go, for we have abso- 
lute mastery over all Demons, even over their Rajah 
himself, and unless you do as we command we shall be 
very angry.” “Very well,” answered the Demon, foi 


The Three Clever Men and the Demons. 323 

he felt quite frightened at the Pundit’s fierce words ; 
u mount on my back and I’ll take you there.” So the 
Pundit, the Wrestler and the Pearl-shooter all mounted 
the Demon, and he flew away with them, on, on, on, 
as fast as wings could cut the air, till they reached the 
great jungle where the durbar* was to be held, and 
there he placed them all on the top of a high tree just 
over the Demon Rajah’s throne. In a few minutes the 
Pearl-shooter, the Wrestler and the Pundit 'heard a 
rushing noise, and thousands and thousands of Demons 
filled the place, covering the ground as far as the eye 
could reach, and thronging chiefly round the Rajah’s 
throne ; but they did not notice the men in the tree 
above them. Then the Rajah ordered that the Demon 
who had taken of their treasure to give to mortals 
should be brought to judgment ; and when they had 
dragged the culprit into the midst of them, they ac- 
cused him, and having proved him guilty, would have 
punished him ; but he defended himself stoutly, saying, 
“ Noble Rajah, those who forced me to fetch them 
treasure were no ordinary mortals, but great and terri- 
ble ; they said they ate many Demons ; the man ate 
twelve a day, his wife ate three, and each of his chil- 
dren one. He said, moreover, that he and his friends 
were more powerful than us all, and ruled your 
majesty as absolutely as we are ruled by you.” The 
Demon Rajah answered, “ Let us see these great peo- 
ple of whom you speak, and we will believe you ; but 
” At this moment the tree upon which the Pun- 
dit, the Pearl-shooter and the Wrestler were, broke, 
and down they all tumbled — first, the Wrestler, then 
the Pearl-shooter, and lastly the Pundit — upon the 
* Council. 


Old Deccan Days . 


3 2 4 

head of the Demon Rajah as he sat in judgment. 
They seemed to have come down from the sky, so sud- 
denly did they appear, and, being very much alarmed 
at their awkward position determined to take the 
aggressive. So the Wrestler kicked and hugged and 
beat the Rajah with all his might and main, and the 
Pearl-shooter did likewise, while the Pundit, who was 
perched up a little higher than either of the others, 
cried, “ So be it, so be it. We will eat him first for 
dinner, and afterward we will eat all the other De- 
mons.” The Demons hearing this, one and all flew 
away from the confusion and left their Rajah to his 
fate ; while he cried, “ Oh spare me ! spare me ! I see 
it is all true ; only let me go, and I will give you as 
much treasure as you like.” “ No, no,” said the Pundit ; 
“ don’t listen to him, friends ; we will eat him for din- 
ner.” And the Wrestler and the Pearl-shooter kicked 
and beat him harder than before. Then the Demon 
cried again, “Let me go! let me go!” “No, no,” 
they answered ; and they chastised him vigorously for 
the space of an hour, until, at last, fearing they should 
get tired, the Pundit said, “ The treasure would be no 
use to us here in the jungle ; but if you brought us a 
very great deal to our own house, we might give up 
eating you for dinner to-day ; you must, however, give 
us great compensation, for we are all very hungry.” 
To this the Demon Rajah gladly agreed, and, calling 
together his scattered subjects, ordered them to take 
the three valiant men home again and convey the 
treasure to the Pundit’s house. The little Demons 
obeyed his orders with much fear and trembling, but 
they were very willing to do their best to get the Pundit, 
the Pearl-shooter and the Wrestler out of Demon-land, 


The Three Clever Men and the Demons . 325 

and they, for their parts, were no less anxious to go. 
When they got home, the Pundit said, “You shall not 
go until the engagement is fulfilled.” Instantly Demons 
without number filled the house with riches, and when 
they had accomplished their task, they all flew away, 
fearing greatly the terrible Pundit and his friends, who 
talked of eating Demons as men would eat almcnds 
and raisins. So, by never showing that he was afraid, 
this brave Pundit saved his family from being eaten by 
these Demons, and also got a vast amount 6f treasure. 
Then he divided it into three equal portions : a third 
he gave to the Wrestler, a third he gave to the Pearl- 
shooter, and a third he kept himself ; after which he 
sent his friends, with many kindly words, back to their 
own homes. So the Pearl-shooter returned to his 
house laden with gold and jewels of priceless worth ; 
and when he got there, he called his wife and gave 
them to her, saying, “ I have been a far journey and 
brought back all these treasures for you, and I have 
learnt that your words were true, since in the world 
there are cleverer men than I ; for mine is a cleverness 
that profits not, and but for a Pundit and a Wrestler, I 
should not have gained these riches. I will shoot 
the pearl from your nose-ring no more.” And he 
never did. 

28 




XXIV. 

THE ALLIGATOR AND THE JACKAL 

A HUNGRY JACKAL once went down to the 
river-side in search of little crabs, bits of fish 
and whatever else he could find for his dinner. Now 
it chanced that in this river there lived a great big Alli- 
gator, who, being also very hungry, would have been 
extremely glad to eat the Jackal. 

The Jackal ran up and down, here and there, but for 
a long time could find nothing to eat. At last, close 
to where the Alligator was lying among some tall bul- 
rushes under the clear, shallow water, he saw a little 
crab sidling along as fast as his legs could carry him. 
The Jackal was so hungry that when he saw this he 
poked his paw into the water to try and catch the crab, 
when snap ! the old Alligator caught hold of him. 
“ Oh dear !” thought the Jackal to himself, “ what can I 
do ? This great big Alligator has caught my paw in his 
month, and in another* minute he will drag me down 
by it under the water and kill me. My only chance is 
to make him think he has made a mistake.” So he 
called out in a cheerful voice, “ Clever Alligator, clever 
Alligator, to catch hold of a bulrush root instead of my 
paw ! I hope you find it very tender.” The Alligator, 
who was so buried among the bulrushes that he could 
hardly see, thought, on hearing this, “ Dear me, how 
326 



The Alligato 7 and the Jackal . 327 

tiresome! I fancied I had caught hold of the Jackal’s 
paw ; but there he is, calling out in a cheerful voice. 
I suppose I must have seized a bulrush root instead, 
as he says and he let the Jackal go. 

The Jackal ran away as fast as he could, crying, 
“ O wise Alligator, wise Alligator ! So you let me go 
again !” Then the Alligator was very much vexed, 
but the Jackal had run away too far to be caught. 
Next day the Jackal returned to the river-side to get his 
dinner, as before ; but because he was very much afraid 
of the Alligator he called out, “ Whenever I go to look 
for my dinner, I see the nice little crabs peeping up 
through the mud ; then I catch them and eat them. I 
wish I could see one now.” 

The Alligator, who was buried in the mud at the 
bottom of the river, heard every word. So he popped 
the little point of his snout above it, thinking, “ If I do 
but just show the tip of my nose, the Jackal will take 
me for a crab and put in his paw to catch me, and as 
soon as ever he does I’ll gobble him up.” 

But no sooner did the Jackal see the little tip of the 
Alligator’s nose than he called out, “ Aha, my friend ! 
there you are. No dinner for me in this part of the 
river, then, I think.” And so saying he ran farther 
on and fished for his dinner a long way from that 
place. The Alligator was very angry at missing his 
prey a second time, and determined not to let him 
escape again. 

So on the following day, when his little tormentor 
returned to the water-side, the Alligator hid himself 
close to the bank, in order to catch him if he could. 
Now the Jackal was rather afraid going near the river, 
for he thought, “ Perhaps this Alligator will catch me 


Old Deccan Days. 


328 

to-day.” But yet, being hungry, he did not wish to go 
without his dinner ; so to make all as safe as he could, 
he cried, “Where are all the little crabs gone? There 
is not one here and I am so hungry ; and generally, 
even when they are under water, one can see them 
going bubble, bubble, bubble, and all the little bubbles 
go pop ! pop ! pop !” On hearing this the Alligator, 
who was buried in the mud under the river-bank, 
thought, “ I will pretend to be a little crab.” And he 
began to blow, u Puff, puff, puff! Bubble, bubble, bub- 
ble !” and all the great big bubbles rushed to the 
surface of the river and burst there, and the waters 
eddied round and round like a whirlpool ; and there 
was such a commotion when the huge monster began 
to blow bubbles in this way that the Jackal saw very 
well who must be there, and he ran away as fast as he 
could, saying, “ Thank you, kind Alligator, thank you ; 
thank you ! Indeed I would not have come here had I 
known you were so close.” 

This enraged the Alligator extremely ; it made him 
quite cross to think of being so often deceived by a 
little Jackal, and he said to himself, “I will be taken 
in no more. Next time I will be very cunning.” So 
for a long time he waited and waited for the Jackal to 
return to the river-side ; but the Jackal did not come, 
for he had thought to himself, “ If matters go on in this 
way, I shall some day be caught and eaten by the 
wicked old Alligator. I had better content myself 
with living on wild figs,” and he went no more near 
the river, but stayed in the jungles and ate wild figs, 
and roots which he dug up with his paws. 

When the Alligator found this out, he determined to 
try and catch the Jackal on land ; so, going under the 


The Alligator and the yackal . 329 

largest of wild fig trees, where the ground was covered 
with the fallen fruit, he collected a quantity of it to- 
gether, and, burying himself under the great heap, 
waited for the Jackal to appear. But no sooner did 
the cunning little animal see this great heap of wild figs 
all collected together, than he thought, “ That looks 
very like my friend the Alligator.” And to discover if 
it was so or not, he called out, “ The juicy little wild 
figs I love to eat always tumble down from the tree, 
and roll here and there as the wind drives them ; but 
this great heap of figs is quite still ; these cannot be 
good figs ; I will not eat any of them.” “ Ho, ho !” 
thought the Alligator, “ is that all ? How suspicious 
this Jackal is ! I will make the figs roll about a little 
then, and when he sees that he will doubtless come 
and eat them.” 

So the great beast shook himself, and all the heap of 
little figs went roll, roll, roll — some a mile this way, 
some a mile that, farther than they had ever rolled be- 
fore or than the most blustering wind could have driven 
them. 

Seeing this, the Jackal scampered away, saying, “ I 
am so much obliged to you, Alligator, for letting me 
know you are there, for indeed I should hardly have 
guessed it. You were so buried under that heap of 
figs.” The Alligator, hearing this, was so angry that 
he ran after the Jackal, but the latter ran very, very fast 
away, too quickly to be caught.” 

Then the Alligator said to himself, “ I will not allow 
that little wretch to make fun of me another time and 
then run away out of reach ; I will show him that I 
can be more cunning than he fancies.” And early the 
next morning he crawled as fast as he could to the 
28 * 


33 ° 


Old Deccan Days. 

Jackal’s den (which was a hole in the side of a hill) 
and crept into it, and hid himself, waiting for the Jackal, 
who was out, to return home. But when the Jackal got 
near the place, he looked about him and thought, “Dear 
me ! the ground looks as if some heavy creature had 
been walking over it, and here are great clods of earth 
knocked down from each side of the door of my den, 
as if a very big animal had been trying to squeeze him- 
self through it. I certainly will not go inside until I 
know that all is safe there.” So he called out, “ Little 
house, pretty house, my sweet little house, why do you 
not give an answer when I call? If I come, and all is 
safe and right, you always call out to me. Is anything 
wrong, that you do not speak ? ” 

Then the Alligator, who was inside, thought, “ If that 
is the case I had better call out, that he may fancy all 
is right in his house.” And in as gentle a voice as he 
could, he said, “ Sweet little Jackal.” 

At hearing these words the Jackal felt quite frightened, 
and thought to himself, “ So the dreadful old Alligator 
is there. I must try to kill him if I can, for if I do not 
he will certainly catch and kill me some day.” He 
therefore answered, “ Thank you, my dear little house. 
I like to hear your pretty voice. I am coming in in a 
minute, but first I must collect firewood to cook my 
dinner.” And he ran as fast as he could, and dragged 
all the dry branches and bits of stick he could find 
close up to the mouth of the den. Meantime, the 
Alligator inside kept as quiet as a mouse, but he could 
not help laughing a little to himself, as he thought, “ So 
I have deceived this tiresome little Jacka4 at last. In a 
few minutes he will run in here, and then won’t I snap 
him up !” When the Jackal had gathered together all 


The Alligator and the Jackal. 331 

the sticks he could find and put them round the mouth 
of his den, he set them on fire and pushed them as far 
into it as possible. There was such a quantity of them 
that they soon blazed up into a great fire, and the smoke 
and flames filled the den and smothered the wicked old 
Alligator and burnt him to death, while the little Jackal 
ran up and down outside, dancing for joy and singing — 
“ How do you like my house, my friend? Is it nice 
and warm ? Ding-dong ! ding-dong ! The Alligator 
is dying ! ding-dong, ding-dong ! He will trouble me 
no more. I have defeated my enemy ! Ring-a-ting ! 
ding-a-ting ! ding-ding-dong ! ” 




NOTES ON THE NARRATOR’S 
NARRATIVE. 


NOTE A. 



HE battle of Kirkee was the turning-point in the last Mahratta 


-L war, which sealed the fate of the Peishwa’s dynasty and trans- 
ferred the Deccan to British rule, and is naturally, in that part of 
India, still regarded, by all whose recollections go back to those 
days, as the one great event of modern history. 

When the collector of these tales was in India, the house tempo- 
rarily occupied by the Governor of Bombay overlooked the field of 
battle, and among those who came to see the Governor on business 
or pleasure were some — natives as well as Europeans — to whom the 
events of half a century ago were matters of living memory. 

Old soldiers would tell how the fidelity of the native Sepoys re- 
sisted all the bribes and threats of Bajee Row Peishwa, the absolute 
Brahmin ruler of Poona, and thus, while the Peishwa hoped to effect 
his purpose by treachery, enabled Mr. Mountstuart Elphinstone to 
defer open hostilities — a matter of vital importance to the operations 
of Lord Hastings on the other side of India, in preparing for his 
great campaign against the Pindarees. 

The veterans would recount all the romantic incidents of the strug- 
gle which followed — how the “old Toughs” (now H. M.’s 103d 
Regiment), the only European corps within reach, when at last 
slipped from the leash at Panwell, marched seventy-two miles 
straight up over the ghauts to Poona, with only a single three-hours’ 
halt en route ; how they closed up their ranks of travel-soiled war- 
riors and entered the British lines with band playing and colors fly- 


333 


334 


Old Deccan Days . 


ing ; and how not a straggler dropped behind, “ for all knew that 
there must be a battle soon.” Their arrival was the signal for the 
Peishwa to throw off the mask, and, as the British Residency was 
untenable, the English troops moved out to take up a safer position 
at Kirkee, about three miles from the city of Poona ; and as they 
marched they saw all the houses of the Resident and his suite fired 
by the enemy, who swarmed out of the city. As they formed in line 
of battle, they anxiously watched the native regiments coming up on 
their flank from Dapoorie, for that was the moment for successful 
treachery if the native soldiers were untrue ! Not a Sepoy, how- 
ever, in the British ranks wavered, though before the junction was 
complete a cloud of Mahratta cavalry poured down upon them, 
dashed through the opening left between the two lines, enveloped 
either flank of the little army, and attacked the European regiment 
in the rear. Then, as a last resource, the European regiment faced 
about their second rank, and kept up such a steady rolling fire to 
front and rear at the same time that but few of the eager horsemen 
ever came within spear’s length of the British bayonets. 

One of the most touching recollections of those times attracted our 
notice almost the last day we spent at Kirkee. An old chief, Jadow- 
row of Malagaom, had come to take leave of the departing Governor. 
He was head of one of the oldest Mahratta families, for his ancestors 
were famous as a very ancient royal house before the Mohammedans 
invaded the Deccan. The old man had borne arms as a youthful 
commander of horse when the great Duke was at Poona in 1802, just 
before the battle of Assaye, had been greatly distinguished for his 
gallantry in the battle of Kirkee, so fatal to his race, and had fol- 
lowed the fortunes of the Peishwa to the last. Disdaining to make 
separate terms for himself with the English conqueror, he remained 
one of the few thoroughly faithful to his sovereign — not from love, 
for he loved not Bajee Row, but “because he had eaten his salt” — 
and only after the Peishwa’s surrender returned to his old castle near 
Poona. There for many years he lived, hunting and hawking over 
his diminished acres, and greatly respected as a model of a gallant 
and honorable old chief ; but he could never be persuaded to revisit 
the capital of the Mahrattas after its occupation by the English. 
“He had no child,” he said, “and his race would die with him.” 
At last, as years rolled on, an only son was born to him ; and then, 
touched by some unexpected act of liberality on the part of the 
British government which would secure his ancestral estate to this 


Notes. 


335 


child of his old age, he resolved to go to Poona, and visited the 
Governor, whose temporary residence happened to overlook the 
battle-field of Kirkee. He gazed long and wistfully from the draw- 
ing-room windows and said, “ This place is much changed since I 
was here last, fifty years ago. It was here the battle was fought, and 
it was from near this very spot that we charged down that slope on 
the English line as it formed beyond that brook. I never thought to 
have seen this place again.” 

Almost every hill, fort, and every large village round Poona, has 
some tradition, not only of the days of Alumgeer, Sivagee and of 
early Mahratta history, but of the campaigns of Wellesley in 1802 
and of the last great struggle in 1817-181, 


NOTE B. 

Anna’s remarks on the contrast between the present dearth and 
the “good old times” of cheap bread, when the rupee went so much 
further than it does now, are very characteristic. The complaint, 
too, is very universal, and is to be heard in the household of public 
functionaries, the highest as well as the lowest, in every grade of 
native society, and more or less in all parts of India. 

The Narrator’s notion, that “The English fixed the rupee at six- 
teen annas,” is another specimen of a very widespread Indian popular 
delusion. The rupee always consisted of sixteen annas, for the anna 
means only the sixteenth part of anything, but to the poor the great 
matter for consideration in all questions of currency is the quantity 
of small change they can get for the coin in which their wages are 
paid. Formerly this used to fluctuate with the price of copper, and 
the quantity of copper change which a silver rupee would fetch varied 
as copper was cheap or dear, and was always greatest when the 
copper currency was most debased. The English introduced all 
over India a uniform currency of copper as well as of silver, and none 
of course were greater gainers in the long run by this uniformity than 
the very poor. 


33 ^ 


Old Deccan Days . 


NOTE C. 

I am unable, at present, to give either the native words or music 
for this curious little Calicut song. The second part is probably of 
Portuguese origin, or it may have been derived from the Syrian 
Christians, who have been settled on that coast since the earliest 
ages. 

The English translation of the words, as explained to me by Anna, 
is as follows : 


PART I. 

THE SONG FROM THE SHIP. 

[To be sung by one or more voices.) 

1. Very far went the ship, in the dark, .up and down, up and down. 

There was very little sky ; the sailors couldn’t see anything ; 
rain was coming. 

2. Now darkness, lightning and very little rain ; but big flashes, 

two yards long, that looked as if they fell into the sea. 

3. On the third day the captain looks out for land, shading his eyes 

with his hand. There may be land. The sailors say to him, 
“ What do you see ?” He answers, “ Far off is the jungle, 
and, swinging in a tree, is an old monkey, with two little 
monkeys in her arms. We must be nearing land.” 

4. Again the captain looks out ; the sailors say to him, “ What 

do you see?” He answers, “On the shore there walks a 
pretty little maiden, with a chattee on her head ; she skips 
and runs, and dances as she goes. We must be nearing 
land.” 

5. The storm begins to rage again, and hides the land : at last it 

clears a little. The sailors say to the captain, “ What do 
you see ?” He answers, “ I see a man ploughing ; two bul- 
locks draw the plough. We must be nearing land.” 

It is all true ; they have gained the shore. 


Notes . 


337 


PART II. 

SONG FROM THE SHORE. 

[To be sung by one or more voices.) 

1. The ship’s on the sea — 

Which way is it coming ? 

Right home to land 
What cargo has it? 

The ship brings the sacrament and praying beads. 

2. The ship’s on the sea — 

Which way is it coming ? 

Right home to land. 

What cargo has it ? 

The ship brings white paper and the Twelve Apostles. 

3. The ship comes home to land — 

What cargo does it bring ? 

Silver money, prophets and holy people. 

4. The ship comes home to land — 

What does it bring ? 

All the saints and holy people, and Jesus Christ of Naza- 
reth. 

5. The ship comes to our doors — 

Who brings it home ? 

Our Saviour. 

Our Saviour bless the ship, and bring it safely home. 

The second song, “The Little Wife Watching for her Husband’s 
Return,” Anna had almost entirely forgotten. 

It was, she said, very pretty, being the song of the little wife as she 
decks herself in her jewels to please her husband when he comes 
home. She laments his absence, fears he has forgotten her and be- 
moans her loneliness. M. F. 


29 


P 


NOTES ON THE FAIRY LEGENDS 


PUNCHKIN. 

Page 27. — The Rajah’s seven daughters, taking it by turns to cook 
their father’s dinner, would be nothing unusual in the household of a 
Rajah. To a chief or great man in India, it is still the most natural 
precaution he can take against poison to eat nothing but what has 
been prepared by his wife or daughter, or under their eye in his own 
zenana; and there are few accomplishments on which an Indian 
princess prides herself more than on her skill in cookery. 


RAMA AND LUXMAN. 

Page 107. — The little black and white owls, which fly out at dusk 
and sit always in pairs, chattering to each other in a singularly con- 
versational version of owl language, are among the most widely- 
spread of Indian birds, and in every province where they are found 
are regarded as the most accomplished of soothsayers. Unlike other 
ominous creatures, they are anxious to do good to mankind, for they 
always tell each other what the traveler ought to do, and, if mankind 
were not so dull in understanding their language, would save the 
hearer from all risk of misfortune. 


LITTLE SURYA BAI. 

Page 1 1 8. — The sangfroid with which the first Ranee, here and in 
the story of Panch-Phul Ranee, page 164, receives the second and 
338 


Notes . 


339 


more favored wife to share her throne, however difficult to under* 
stand in the West, is very characteristic of Oriental life. In Indian 
households of the highest rank it would not be difficult to find ex- 
amples of several wives living amicably together, as described in some 
of these stories ; but the contrary result, as depicted in this story of 
Surya Bai and others, is far more common, for as a general rule 
human nature is too strong for custom, and under an external sere- 
nity bitter jealousies exist between the several wives of a royal 
Hindoo household, which are a constant source of misery and crime. 
Among the curious changes of opinion which are observable of late 
years in the Indian empire, none is more remarkable than the con- 
viction, now frequently expressed by the warmest supporters of native 
governments at native courts, that the toleration of polygamy is one 
of their most serious dangers, the removal of which is of vital import- 
ance to the safety of any Indian dynasty, and indeed to the perma- 
nence of any Indian family of rank. 


THE WANDERINGS OF VICRAM MAHARAJAH. 

Page 13 1. — The Dipmal, or Tower of Lights, is an essential fea- 
ture in every large Hindoo temple. It is often of great height, and 
furnished with niches or brackets, each of which holds a lamp on 
festivals, especially on that of the Dewali, the feast of lamps cele- 
brated in the autumn in honor of the Hindoo goddess Bowani or 
Kali, who was formerly propitiated on that occasion by human 
sacrifices. 

Page 132. — The story of Vicram’s act of devotion is thoroughly 
Hindoo. It is difficult to understand the universal prevalence and 
strength of the conviction among Hindoos that the particular god of 
their adoration can be prevailed on, by importunity or self-devotion, 
to reveal to his worshiper some act, generally ascetic or sacrificial, 
the performance of which will insure to the devotee the realization 
of the object of his wishes. The act of devotion and the object of 
the devotee are both often very trivial ; but occasionally we are 
startled by hearing of some deed of horror, a human sacrifice or de- 
liberate act of self-immolation, which is quite unaccountable to those 
who are not aware that it is only a somewhat extreme manifestation 


340 Old Deccan Days. 

of a belief which still influences the daily conduct of the great ma- 
jority of the Hindoos. 

And even those who have known the Hindoos long and intimately 
frequently fail to recognize the extent to which this belief influences 
the ethics of common life and action in India. To quote an instance 
from well-known history, there are few acts regarding which a Euro- 
pean traveler would expect the verdict of all mankind to be more 
generally condemnatory than the murder of Afzul Khan, the general 
of the Imperial Delhi army, by Sivajee, the founder of the Mahratta 
empire. Sivajee, according to the well-known story, had invited his 
victim to an amicable conference, and there stabbed him with a wag 
nuck* as they embraced at their first meeting. It was a deed of such 
deliberate and cruel treachery that it could find few defenders in 
Europe, even among the wildest advocates of political assassination. 
A European is consequently little prepared to find it regarded by 
Mahrattas generally as a most commendable act of devotion. The 
Hindoo conscience condemns murder and treachery as emphatically 
as the European ; but this act, as viewed by the old-fashioned Mah- 
ratta, was a sacrifice prescribed by direct revelation of the terrible 
goddess Bowani to her faithful devotee. It was therefore highly 
meritorious, and the beautiful Genoese blade which Sivajee always 
wore, and with which his victim was finally despatched, was, down to 
our own days, provided with a little temple of its own in the palace 
of his descendants, and annually worshiped by them and their house- 
hold — not as a mere act of veneration for their ancestor’s trusty 
sword, but because it was the chosen instrument of a great sacrifice, 
and “ no doubt,” as the attendant who watched it used to say, “ some 
of the spirit of Bowani,” whose name it bore, “must still reside 
in it” 

An attentive observer wilf notice in the daily life of those around 
him in India constant instances of this belief in the efficacy of acts of 
devotion and sacrifice to alter even the decrees of Fate. It is one of 
the many incentives to the long pilgrimages which form such a uni- 
versal feature in Hindoo life, and the records of the courts of justice 
and the Indian newspapers constantly afford traces of its prevalence 

* An instrument so called from its similarity to a tiger’s claw. It consists of sharp 
curved steel blades set on a bar, which fits by means of finger-rings to the inside of 
the hand, so as to be concealed when the hand is closed, while the blades project at 
right angles to the cross bar and palm when the hand is opened. It is struck as in 
slapping or tearing with the claws. 


Notes . 


34i 

in cases of attempted suttee and other acts of self-immolation, or even 
of human sacrifice, such as are above alluded to. It must be remem- 
bered that Hindoo sacrifice has nothing but the name in common 
with the sacrifices which are a distinctive part of the religion of every 
Semitic race. Many a difficulty which besets the Hindoo inquirer 
after truth would be avoided if this essential distinction were always 
known or remembered. 

Page 136. — This belief in the omnipotence of “ Muntrs,” or certain 
verbal formulas, properly pronounced by one to whom they have been 
authoritatively communicated, is closely allied to, and quite as uni- 
versal as, the belief in the efficacy of sacrificial acts of devotion. In 
every nation throughout India, whatever may be the variations of 
creed or caste usage, it is a general article of belief, accepted by the 
vast majority of every class and caste of Hindoos, that there is a form 
of words (or Muntr) which, to be efficacious, can be only orally trans- 
mitted, but which, when so communicated by one of the “twice- 
born,” has absolutely unlimited power over all things visible or 
invisible, extending even to compelling the obedience of the gods 
and of Fate itself. Of course it is rather dangerous, even for the 
wisest, to meddle with such potent influences, and the attempt is 
usually confined to the affairs of common life ; but of the absolute 
omnipotence of “ Muntrs ” few ordinary un-Europeanized Hindoos 
entertain any doubt, and there is hardly any part of their belief which 
exercises such an all-pervading and potent influence in their daily 
life, though that influence is often but little understood by Euro- 
peans. 

The classical reader will remember many allusions to a similar 
belief as a part of the creeds imported from the East, which were 
fashionable under the Empire at Rome. There is much curious in- 
formation on the subject of the earliest-known Hindoo Muntrs in the 
Aitareya Brahmana of the learned Dr. Haug, the only European who 
ever witnessed the whole process of a Hindoo sacrifice. The reader 
who is curious on such matters will do well to consult the recently- 
published work of Professor Max Muller, which might, without ex- 
aggeration, be described as a storehouse of new facts connected with 
the religion and literature of the East, rather than by its modest title 
of Chip from a German Workshop, 

29 * 


342 


Old Deccan Days. 


HOW THE SUN, THE MOON AND THE WIND WENT 
OUT TO DINNER. 

Page 194. — I have not ventured to alter the traditional mode of the 
Moon’s conveyance of dinner to her mother the Star, though it must, 
I fear, seriously impair the value of the story as a moral lesson in the 
eyes of all instructors of youth. M. F. 


SINGH RAJAH AND THE CUNNING LITTLE JACKALS. 

Page 198. — This story is substantially the same as one well-known 
to readers of Pilpai’s Fables. The chorus of the Jackals’ song of 
triumph is an imitation of their nocturnal howl. 


THE JACKAL, THE BARBER AND THE BRAHMIN. 

Page 203. — The touch of the poor outcast Mahars would be pollu- 
tion to a Hindoo of any but the lowest caste ; hence their ready obe- 
dience to the Jackal’s exhortation not to touch him. 

The offerings of rice, flowers, a chicken, &c., and the pouring water 
over the idol, are parts of the regular daily observance in every vil- 
lage temple. 


MUCHIE LAL. 

Page 265. — The popular belief in stories of this kind, where the 
Cobra becomes the companion of human beings, is greatly strength- 
ened by the instances which occasionally occur when particular per- 
sons, sometimes children or idiots, possess the power to handle the 
deadly reptiles without receiving any injury from them. How much 
is due merely to gentleness of touch and fearlessness, and how much 
to any personal peculiarity which pleases the senses of the snake, it 
is difficult to say, for the instances, though not few and perfectly well 


Notes . 


343 

authenticated, are sufficiently rare to be popularly regarded as mirac- 
ulous. 

In one case, which occurred in the country west of Poona not long 
after our conquest of the Deccan, a Brahmin boy could, without the 
aid of music or anything but his own voice, attract to himself and 
handle with impunity all the snakes which might be within hearing 
in any thicket or dry stone wall, such as in that country is their favor- 
ite refuge. So great was the popular excitement regarding him, 
under the belief that he was an incarnation of some divinity, that the 
magistrate of Poona took note of his proceedings, and becoming un- 
easy as to the political turn the excitement regarding the boy might 
take, reported regularly to government the growth of the crowds who 
pressed to see the marvel and to offer gifts to the child and his 
parents ! The poor boy, however, was at last bitten by one of the 
reptiles and died, and the wonder ceased. 


CHUNDUN RAJAH. 

Page 274. — There are innumerable popular superstitions regarding 
the powers which can be conveyed in a charmed necklace ; and it is 
a common belief that good and bad fortune, and life itself, can be 
made to depend on its not being removed from the wearer’s neck. 


CHANDRA’S VENGEANCE. 

Page 292. — The picture of the childless wife setting forth to seek 
Mahdeo, and resolving not to return till she has seen him, is one 
which would find a parallel in some of the persons composing almost 
every group of pilgrims who resort to the great shrines of Hindostan. 
Any one who has an opportunity of quietly questioning the members 
of such an assemblage will find that, besides the miscellaneous crowd 
of idlers, there are usually specimens of two classes of very earnest 
devotees. The one class is intent on the performance of some act 
of ascetic devotion, the object of which is to win the favor of the 
divinity, or to fulfill a vow for a favor already granted. The other 
class is seeking “to see the divinity,” and expecting the revelation 


344 


Old Deccan Days. 


under one or other of the terrible forms of the Hindoo Pantheon, 
There are few things more pathetic than to hear one of this class re- 
count the wanderings and sufferings of his past search, or the jour- 
neys he has before him, which are too often prolonged till death puts 
an end to the wanderer and his pilgrimage. 

Page 294. — The “ fire which does not burn ” is everywhere in 
India one of the attributes of Mahdeo. 

In many parts of the Deccan are to be found shrines consecrated 
to one of the local gods, who has been Brahminically recognized as a 
local manifestation of Mahdeo, where the annual festival of the 
divinity was, within the last few years, kept by lighting huge fires, 
through which devotees ran or jumped, attributing their escape from 
burning to the interposition of Mahdeo. Except in a few remote 
villages, this custom, which sometimes led to serious accidents, has 
in British territory been stopped by the police. 

Page 298. — This story of the wonderful child who was found float- 
ing in a box on a river is to be heard, with more or less picturesque 
local variations, on the banks of every large river in India. Almost 
every old village in Sind has a local tradition of this kind. 

Page 305. — Most households in Calcutta can furnish recollections 
of depredations by birds, at their nest-building season, similar to that 
of the Ranee’s bangles by the Eagles in this story. But the object 
of the theft is generally more prosaic. I have known gold rings so 
taken, but the plunder is more frequently a lady’s cuff or collar, or a 
piece of lace ; and the plunderers are crows, and sometimes, but very 
rarely, a kite. 

Page 313. — Purwaris, or outcasts, who are not suffered to live 
within the quarter inhabited by the higher castes, are very numerous 
in Southern India, and a legend similar to this one is a frequent 
popular explanation of their being in excess as compared with othei 
classes of the population. 


HOW THE THREE CLEVER MEN OUTWITTED THE 

DEMONS. 

Page 314. — Old residents at Surat may remember an ancient local 
celebrity named Tom the Barber, among whose recollections of 
former days was a chronicle of a renQwned duelist, who used to 


Notes. 


345 


amuse himself by shooting with his pistol, somewhat after the fashion 
of the Pearl-shooter. The little tin can of hot water which Tom car- 
ried, slung from his forefinger as he went his morning rounds, was a 
favorite mark. So were the water-jars on the heads of the women as 
they passed the duelist’s house coming from the well ; and great was 
Tom’s relief when an old woman, who could not be pacified by the 
usual douceur for the loss of her jar and the shock of finding the 
water stream down her back, appealed to the authorities and had 
the duelist bound over to abstain in future from his dangerous 
amusement 

So vivid were Tom’s recollections of his own terrors that, after the 
lapse of half a century, he could ill conceal his sense of the poetical 
justice finally inflicted on his tormentor, who was killed in a duel 
to which he provoked a young officer who had never before fired a 
pistol. 

P* 




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